The Woman She Had Become
by stupidpridething
Summary: Sam was right. They would be seeing her name in lights for the rest of their lives. Singing sensation Mercy Jones was everything she wanted to be, and without him. Moving on may have been a two-way street, but nobody said it would be easy to do when every sign along the way pointed back to her.
1. The Ruin She Had Become

A/N: **This fic is based off a series of tiny drabbles I created on my tumblr (stupidpridething) that I got some good responses from and a couple requests to go on and fic it. I recommend you visit the page and click the "TWSHB" link to read them if you want to feel more informed on the story. It's not a must, but more of an "inside scoop" type tidbit that I'm doing and will continue to do throughout the progress of the story. They can mean as much or as little as you want them to!**

After this chapter, the rest of the story will take place in its main tense: 10 years from now.

* * *

Chapter 1

**The Ruin She Had Become**

Mercedes blew away the loose tendrils of hair that got in the way of her seeing clearly. She needed to make sure she didn't mess up, already running out of patience with the sharpie that was completely spent. This would be the box that all the things that made her feel close to home would go in. Photos and frames, her grandmother's jewelry box, the little trinkets that decorated her dresser and whatever else she couldn't be without miles away. She had been pretty efficient with her packing until she looked around her room and saw that her work ethic had left it completely free of any trace that she had ever been there. Lived there. The floor she had turned into her workspace felt harder than she remembered, colder, and if it wasn't for the faint tint of purple on the walls she could have forgotten where she was altogether. Her parents were already in California by now, making sure she wasn't going to come home to another empty space like the one she was leaving behind; it was her mother's pleasure and her father's final gift to her. And if there was one thing she knew about her dad, it was that Robert Jones wasn't the most affectionate person in the world, but she learned to become fluent in what was unspoken with him and uncover the I love yous and I'm proud of yous in it. She didn't have to do too much searching. It was in the graduation present sitting in the driveway, waiting for her and Puck to make a mess of it on their road trip out west. It was in long list of numbers she could call of people that owed him favors and it was in her bank account as a cushion for the unwelcome but anticipated fall of a struggling artist. Mercedes was determined not to touch a dime of it. She was going to make it and she was going to do it without giving her father, or anyone, the satisfaction of crawling back with a dream deferred.

When the last box was packed away and the sound of the pulling and tearing of Scotch tape had finally stopped echoing in her head, she looked to the window for the first time in 12 hours. _Damn,_ she thought._ Night already_? Seeing the moon was further proof that she had spent the entire day, her _last_ day, busying herself from the people and places that had the power to remind her exactly of what she was leaving behind. It was bad enough that she hadn't talked to Sam since their argument three days ago. Actually, he was the one not returning her calls. The goodbye they both knew was pending had come and initially, he refused to say it. Who they were together, what they were to and for each other, was placed on the chopping block to be split right down he middle and there was no easy way to get cut. She reminded him that they had been "just friends" before in an effort to say that they could be "just friends" again, but he wasn't hearing it. _You don't even believe what you're saying __but you expect me to?_ he said. And he was right. She knew it was a lie the moment she thought it, but all she was trying to do was spare them from one heartbreak with another...as illogical as it seemed. Either distance could pull them apart or they could do it on their own terms and she wanted them to have a say more than anything. And she hoped that just maybe they could pull it back together somewhere down the road when the dust had settled.

_"Just let me find my place in the world. Let me do that, and I promise you..."_

_"So I'll wait then." Sam twisted open one of the Oreos he nabbed from her pantry and licked at the frosting nonchalantly. It was that simple to him. Things between them had always been that simple. If she wanted space, needed it, even, he'd give it to her, but breaking up in order for that to happen was hardly necessary._

_"No. No, I don't want you waiting for me. Who knows how long it'll take for me to find my footing out there?"_

_"It won't matter. I'll be finishing up my senior year at McKinley and be on my way to California faster than you know."_

_"No."_

_"What?"_

_"Don't change your life around because of me. I'm not..." She paused, catching his eyes on her, hungry for the next thought. "I shouldn't be that important to you." __Sam laughed before stuffing the two bare cookie halves in his mouth. How he could find her funny at a time like this was unsettling to say the least. __"We're young. There's a lot out there that we haven't experienced and high school is just a small portion of the rest of our lives."_

_"Ah. So that's why this whole breaking up thing is so easy for you. You think I'm a phase."__  
_

_"I didn't say that."_

_"But I know what you meant. Puppy love and all that, right?"_

_"Again, I didn't say that__—"_

_"I dare you to tell me my feelings for you aren't real. __You think I came back to Lima for Schue? For fucking Glee Club and slushies to the face?"_

_"I know you care about me, Sam."_

_"You know I care about you?" Mercedes opened her mouth to speak but words failed her. To her it didn't sound as bad when she said it, but him repeating with a sour look on his face it made her feel especially ashamed. "Mercedes, I care about what the weather's gonna be like when I get dressed in the morning. I care about my SAT scores being good enough for a shot at college. I. love. you. And yeah, you__ tolerated Puck and you 'cared' about Shane, but you love__ me. They were safe bet because your heart was fully protected, but I'm the gamble, right? Well that's what love is, Mercedes. Having so much to lose that it scares the shit out of you, and baby, you're terrified." __She looked away, telling him everything he needed to know about how right he was._ "But if you're not willing to go all in with me then what the hell are we doing? I_f you're not in this all the way then you can just keep your friendship because I can't go back there."_

Mercedes looked at her phone on the island counter. The moment before things took a turn for the worst played over and over in her head and whether her answer had gotten him to hate her or not, regret would become just another enemy for them to wrestle with if somebody didn't budge now. Her heart was in the right place, even if it couldn't be more wrong to him. If he knew that she loved him then why couldn't he just trust that she'd come back some day? Sure, she was no expert in love and relationships, but some things just didn't add up. Ever since that day she saw Finn running beside Rachel's train, she had thoughts. What was love, really? Being so confident in what it is to not want to lose it? Or being selfless enough to let it go? If it was both, then what came first? And if it was only one of the two, then what did that make the other? A lie? A waste of time? A cheap imitation? What confused her most was that Sam had done his fair share of chasing and waiting when it came to her. Now, in so many words, he declared that he wasn't doing either.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming call she scrambled to pick it up with an eager, "Hello?"

"Expecting someone?" Santana answered, hearing the urgency and hint of desperation in her friend's tone.

"Oh...hey, San."

"Oh hey? Why weren't you at Breadstix tonight? I know it was supposed to be a seniors only thing but that went to shit. You could've brought Sam."

The mention of his name shook her head. "I had some last minute packing to do."

"That's code for a one-for-the-road fuck, right? I know you're gonna be waist deep in some Laguna-Beach-in-the-face type mofos out in Cali, and I don't blame Jagger Jaws for wanting to mark his territory, but Stix before dicks."

Mercedes suppressed her irritation with her circumstance in a deep breath. "Can we talk later?" she sighed.

"Is he still there? Listen, tell Ducky I said to stand on his head and let the blood rush somewhere else for a change. Seriously. He's not the only one you're leaving behind here."

Santana couldn't have had the slightest clue as to how her words came across in that moment. Her relationship with Sam, her going away. Mercedes couldn't help but blame herself for putting a crack in things, compromising the structure of something that was once unmarred, but the boy came at her with a sledgehammer and what was already fragile inside her completely fell apart.

"You cool?" Santanta asked. The sniffling on the other end seemed to come out of nowhere.

She could have told her the whole story right then but part of her was too tired to even start. Retelling meant reliving and it was enough just to be in the thick of it. Mercedes forced a useless smile and wiped away the tear that escaped her eye. "Look I gotta go but um, I'll text you tomorrow," she assured with as much pep in her voice as possible. Her words were met with silence and she could practically see Santana narrowing her eyes at the phone. "I promise."

"You know you can talk to me, right?" Mercedes felt another tear forming, hearing her problems being detected. Already she was losing her touch at putting up a decent front. "I know we've had our fits in the past, but at the end of the day I know you got me. I just hope you know I got you too. And I mean that."

"I know," Mercedes exhaled. "You always mean what you say."

"Then I won't have to repeat myself. You know the number."

Their friendship was an odd one, but it was a friendship nonetheless. Through the years the two of them learned to accept that they were prone to clashing when what made them different was the very thing that the other could use more of. All in all, they were good for each other and no one knew that better than them.

Once she hung up the silence of being alone had settled in again. The humming of her refrigerator, the ticking of the clock on the wall. None of it seemed as loud as it did yesterday or the day before. Just when she had gotten used to each tick and tock serving as the metronome for her rendition of "I've Been Working on the Railroad", the doorbell chimed. Her first instinct was to stay put because she wasn't expecting anyone, but her second instinct told her to grab the Chef's Knife from the drawer, just in case. When she looked out the peephole to see the familiar blonde mess of hair on the other side it calmed her and shook her up at the same time.

"I...took the bus," Sam said cautiously. Right away he felt obligated to explain to the intensity in his newly ex'd girlfriend's eyes and the big ass knife she was wielding in her right hand.

"No. You took _two_ buses," Mercedes snapped. "Two buses and a twenty four minute walk. And that's just to get you to the neighborhood_—_not my front door." He had taken the journey plenty of times before but she hated when he did it at night, or didn't at least call ahead to let her know that she should look out for him.

"Are you gonna put that knife down or?"

"Three days, Sam. Three days. You don't answer my phone calls, you don't text me back_—_you didn't even poke me on Facebook but you think it's okay to just show up on my doorstep in the middle of the night. It's not okay. It's stupid and it's dangerous and it's a jerk move for you to even think that I'd be up just waiting for you. Like you weren't the one that told ME you didn't want to see ME again. Like three days ago you didn't hit me with every single thing you had. Three days, Sam! Three of the shittiest days of my entire life and all it took was me seeing your face to know that I am mad as hell about it. Three days ago...you _ruined_ me."

Her voice broke and something in him did too. Mercedes never got angry. Frustrated, annoyed, fed up, but never angry. Then again, she never had a reason to be. Not being the cause of any tears she shed was something Sam used to take pride in, but he had said some things he didn't mean with his own pain giving it conviction, and seeing what it did to her was enough to make him wish he could press rewind and just suffer in silence. Was he just supposed to let her go? The girl he saw himself living out the rest of his life with? Doing nothing, everything, struggling, succeeding_—_he was more than prepared for all of that with her, and to know that she wasn't there yet, or if she'd ever be, stirred something in him he never knew was brewing to begin with.

"You were right," Mercedes continued. "I do love you. And I guess never realized just how much until you actually hurt me. That was something you promised you would never do and now I'm painfully aware of every bit of trust I put in you because all of it was thrown back in my face." She took a deep break and wiped her wet cheeks with her free hand, blinking so that her eyelashes could adjust. "I'm sorry you came all this way but, I think the whole being strangers thing will go a heck of a lot smoother if you just...go away." She whispered the last part, unable to fully grasp what it had come down to herself.

Sam watched her hand reach behind to the back of the door and push_—_

"Ididn'tmeanit." He rushed, trying to keep the shakiness in his voice from being heard. "What I said I...I was hurt too, you know? I..." Sam leaned into the doorway, hoping that his proximity would get her to hear the sincerity in his voice. "I'm sorry," breathed, fighting back tears himself. Mercedes rested her head against the door exhaustingly and looked him in his glassy eyes, shining in the porch light. "Please. _Please_, don't do this to us."

For a second, she smiled at him. It was subtle, but he knew every muscle in her face and mastered the curve of her lips. He saw that smile and it gave him hope. He saw it, and suddenly he could breathe again. But it wasn't long before something flashed over her that robbed him of the flicker of affection in her stare and lowered her eyes to where his weren't.

"I don't have to," Mercedes said firmly. "You already did."


	2. The Star She Had Become

A/N: **Thank you for the favorites/follows/reviews! It's great motivation for me.  
**

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Chapter 2

**The Star She Had Become**

It was a comfortable chaos, her life. Granted, she was currently in the can't-take-out-my-trash-without-the-world-knowing-it stage, but it didn't put her through the wringer like it used to when she was younger and greener, adjusting to the lifestyle that was to be her new "normal." But it wasn't long before the realities of being a somebody started to feel just as commonplace as what used to be her life: she used to be completely invisible to all the eyes that were on her now. The journey to that place, to her humble familiarity with stardom, was rough but quicker than expected. After devoting four years to being the third string, how fast she got sucked into the pull of "Hollywhirl" was enough to dizzy her with every direction being in demand threw her in. People became fascinated with this tiny brown girl who wasn't giving them the satisfaction of putting her in a box. Mercy Jones wasn't just R&B. She wasn't just pop, rock, or dance; she was a soulful fusion of it all. In the beginning they said it would never work, that she was talented but people wouldn't buy into her image.

_Good thing my image isn't for sale, _she told them, _b__ut my music is._

Considering her entire high school existence, Mercedes had gotten quite used to being seen and not heard, or heard and not seen. It came in handy during her days as a background singer, but that mentality wasn't going to carry itself over into her solo career as long as she could help it. It was her mother that said to her, "How you allow yourself to be treated now is going to mean the difference between getting what you deserve being a priority, or just a possibility later on in life." That was all Lena Jones ever had to say when it came to the drama her daughter was constantly going through in Glee Club. She cared, but she just couldn't relate. And as much as Mercedes wanted to be coddled in those moments, it wasn't until she got a little older that she realized words of comfort could build her up, but it didn't make the foundation of who she was any stronger.

"Mercy?" Mercedes snapped out of daydreaming to see her high-strung (but trustworthy) assistant, Crystal, standing in the dressing room. "Mr. Simmons can't make dinner tonight," she said cautiously.

The mention of the most recent case in her ex files rolled Mercedes' eyes. Her relationship with rapper Diggy Simmons was one the media had always been fascinated with, hailing the couple affectionately named "Miggy" as the new Beyoncé and Jay-Z. But the late nights and early mornings between them got old quick for Mercedes.

When they met the connection was so instantaneous it was frightening. The two of them were sharing the same business at the same age, and both admired the talent and drive the other possessed. Respect came first and friendship came second, mainly because she told herself she didn't want to date someone in the industry. She didn't want to date anyone at all, really. That was until she found out that by being with someone like Diggy she was offered understanding before she even had to ask for it. She never had to. By the time they decided to come together and collaborate on a song for the sake of music, it was safe to assume they were dating...or at least fucking judging by the bedroom eyes and proximity in the music video. The gossip practically wrote itself any time they were seen together and it became harder to dodge. It wasn't long before they went public and he was shouting her out during the performance of one of his older hits, "Do It Like You" in front of thousands of his bitter groupies. _I'm a movement by myself, but I know you'll make me better _wasn't just a lyric for the couple. It was their motto. But it wasn't until being three years deep that she realized being a movement meant that they rarely ever stood still together. The media was onto them long before the cracks started to show for them. The averted eyes, the limp way they held each other's hand whenever they posed on the red carpet. People were starting to see what they didn't want to address, and when they did, it came as no surprise. Theirs wasn't a nasty breakup, yet it bothered Mercedes more to see that it was so easy to say goodbye. It was nothing like how it was with...

"Ms. Jones?" For the second time the same voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"What do you want me to tell him?" Crystal continued, studying the vacant look on her boss's face.

Before Mercedes could respond her own phone started buzzing with his incoming call. "Hello, Daniel," she exhaled, holding up her hand to Crystal to assure her she didn't even have to leave the room.

"Wow. My first name?" He laughed, "What did I do to deserve that?"

"What do you want, Diggy?"

"I want to see you. I just called to tell you that I can do dinner."

"Just a second ago you told Crystal different."

"And just a second ago I changed my plans."

"That's nice, but I changed my _mind_."

"You did not. Come on now. When's the last time we got to spend time together? I move things around, I cancel when I can..."

"This isn't a good look for me."

"What isn't?"

"Don't act like you didn't read that Stone article. I can't go on about how happy I am being single then hop right back into the same pot with you before the print even has time to dry."

"So this is about saving face." Her scoff on the other end of the line quickly changed his tone. "We were friends before, we can be friends again."

Mercedes went quiet. Something about that sounded all too familiar to her. Once she remembered exactly where she had heard those words, her whole demeanor changed. Not that he could see.

"Mercy?"

She started back up, "I never stopped being your friend, Dig. So if friendship is what you want from me it's here and you can have it. But other than that..."

"You know I care about you, right?"

"I have to go."

This was the brick wall. Hitting it for the second time didn't hurt as much to him, but it was a dead giveaway that they were headed no place good whenever she retreated out of the blue. Once silence settled in instead of the dial tone he expected, he posed his question, "You ever gonna tell me what that button is?"

Mercedes looked to Crystal, suddenly aware of her presence as if she could hear the question she'd been asked. "What are you talking about?"

"The one I always wind up pressing but you never tell me why I shouldn't."

"I have to go."

"There you go_—_"

"Goodbye, Daniel," Mercedes said abruptly, not realizing that it didn't help her case any until she hung up and her hands were free to fiddle. Bullshit always found its way to get to her at the most inconvenient times, but thankfully, she had become a pro at shoveling it to the side. It was all in the wrist.

"My next guest is a six-time Grammy award winner, and just recently she was listed as one of the 100 Most Influential People in the World by TIME magazine. Please help me welcome the wonderful Mercy Jones!"

There was something about Craig Ferguson that charmed the panties off Mercedes. She had sat on practically every couch there was in late-night television, but Craig was definitely one of her favorites. He never used cards when he talked to his guests for the sake of having their conversation come naturally, and that made her feel less on the spot knowing that he didn't know what he was going to say either. Plus, she had a thing for accents and hearing his made her especially flirty.

She greeted him with a demure hug and took her seat. "You look great, dear."

"Thank you. I wore this just for you," Mercedes said sweetly, smoothing down the already snug fabric of the bandage dress.

"Did you now?"

"I did."

"You know that's interesting because I wore this just for you." Craig pointed to the Tom Haverford smile on his face, causing Mercedes to cackle at his antics and pat his hand endearingly. "How are you, darling?"

"I'm well. I just came in from New York so I got a little jet lag but, nothing I can't handle."

"I swear you're all over the place!"

"I know, I know. But I never really get to enjoy the places I go. Somewhere down the road I'll revisit everywhere I've been and truly take the time to _be_ there, you know?"

**_Lima, OH_**

_"Your daughter's on," Lena Jones artfully told her husband from the bed._

_Robert walked by the television as if it was about as interesting as a bone dry fish tank. "She's always on that damn thing," he mumbled, purposefully avoiding looking at the screen by enjoying his late night reuben facing the window._

_"After all these years I thought you would've gotten around to being happy for her."  
_

_"I'll be happy for her when she's happy for herself. That girl's a pro at fooling them...but she doesn't fool me."  
_

Craig continued on, "Congratulations on your Grammy wins this year."

Mercedes smiled graciously before thanking him and the clapping audience. Although she already had two gramophones at home, to score four more in one night and have two of them be part of the 'Big Four' was more than she expected. "I used to tell myself if I could just win one I'd be happy enough to retire but..." She shook her head and laughed at the thought, "I don't see myself slowing down any time soon."

"Of course not_—_you're a very busy lady."

"I am. I'm actually about to kick off my first world tour in two months so I'm really excited about that."

"Where are you headed?"

"We're gonna start overseas, make our way to the states, and then the very last tour date is going to be at the Nationwide Arena in Columbus."

"That's right; you're from Ohio."

"Yes. Lima." She didn't sound too enthused but smiled anyway.

"We had Noah Puckerman on the show a few weeks ago and he said you two went to the same high school."

"We did. Noah's actually a very good friend of mine, and a real gentleman." Like anyone with a good publicist, Mercedes tried her best to steer clear of any and all drama, but this time the rumor going around was that her friend had a shouting match with his girl in a nightclub because she told him she was pregnant. The reports said that he wanted her to get rid of the baby because he was too young to be a father, and that the stress of it all caused her to miscarry. Even if Mercedes didn't know the truth firsthand, she knew better than to hastily believe someone with enough mileage on them to rival an old Chevy. Puck deserved better, and she told him that every chance she got. The problem was that he still had traces of an inferiority complex that let his worth be taken advantage of or completely ignored altogether.

Yes, he had become a shoe-in for roles like the slick-talking womanizer or bloody-knuckled badass, which made it hard for him to be looked at any other way when he was so damn good at it. But Mercedes had known Puck longer than any camera lens or fresh in the pants fangirl and could definitely say that he wasn't that person...not anymore. She knew him when he got a job at a bike shop part-time and took to cleaning pools for leather-faced cougars way past their midlife crisis, just so he could make good on his word and help her out with the expenses of rooming together, grateful that every morning he woke up in a bed and not under a bridge. She comforted him when he lost that same job under the false accusation that he had been stealing from the residence once the last straw of rejection broke a horny housewife's back. She watched him spend that sleepless night counting ever dollar to his name and setting a portion for Beth. Maybe it could get her the prom dress of her dreams, or her first car, a chance at college, or maybe she could blow it all on things he could probably never understand the significance of but would be happy to make her happy. She was there for that, and she was with him when he was given the Wilhelmina Models business card that changed his life forever.

But most importantly, he had been there for her just the same.

_It was the night that she knew he was onto her, onto the "I'm okay" mask she had traded for true happiness, happiness she had traded for a deeper joy that was hers once upon a time. Somehow the charm of the west coast had worn out and the stars in her eyes had dimmed for reasons she never gave her new-found friend the opportunity to understand. __Puck was no open book._ Not when it came to that part of himself that he wanted to keep for him and only him. _And contrary to her approachable nature, her listening ears, her soft eyes and strong shoulder, Mercedes wasn't too open either. But what made their friendship so unique always boiled down to their ability to not talk about it; just be about it_. _They just knew how to come through for each other without having to complicate it with the good intentions that always wound up being far from good enough come action time.  
_

_She paused when the lazy strumming of his guitar did and hoped she hadn't accidentally bumped against the wall and gotten his attention. A different song started up over in the next room but the volume was louder this time, telling her that he had come down to the level of the palette she set up on the floor just to hear him better. Mercedes was hit with a brief moment of panic just knowing that her vulnerability could be seen and felt through the layers of sheet rock that separated them both, but then he started to sing...__  
_

Oh what the hell she says  
I just can't win for losing  
And she lays back down  
Man there's so many times  
I don't know what I'm doing  
Like I don't know now

By the light of the moon  
She rubs her eyes  
Says it's funny how the night  
Can make you blind  
I can just imagine  
And I don't know what I'm supposed to do  
But if she feels bad then I do too  
So I let her be

And she says oh  
I can't take no more  
Her tears like diamonds on the floor  
And her diamonds bring me down  
Cause I can't help her now  
She's down in it  
She tried her best but now she can't win it  
Hard to see them on the ground  
Her diamonds falling down

_Mercedes covered her face with her hands as if she could hide away from him any more than she had already. Had she really been that obvious? Had her conscious decision not to talk to or about _him _manage to show that he was all she could think about? That the boy moving on was still there wading in a part of her heart, serving as a reminder of where the waters were most perilous, yet stayed completely unharmed by them. And so it seemed that__ no matter what she did or didn't do, she couldn't drown love out._  


_ She raised her tired fist and tapped three slow knocks against the wall. It was way different from the harsh staccato rhythm she'd stomp out of bed just to bang there, telling him__ his "insomnia symphony" had to stop if she any chance of making her 8am class the next day. Now she didn't know what to say, and it was clear that neither did Puck. But he sang it, and it was everything she needed to hear and all that she didn't want to face.  
_

_Knock...knock...knock.  
_

_Her message had been received and she gave a weak but genuine smile. Mercedes pulled out the composition book from under her pillow and turned on the desk lamp she had brought down on the floor with her. Tapping the pen against her teeth she looked down at pages filled with words that said absolutely nothing at all. What was real, what she really felt, it was unrecognizable and hidden behind violent scratches of blue. Turning to a new page she took a deep breath and started writing before she had time to run the thoughts by her defenses. That night, she wrote her first hit.  
_

Mercedes shielded her eyes from the camera flashes upon leaving the building, taking the hand of her bodyguard and trusting that he could see the way better than she could. If she stopped for one picture or autograph she'd have to stop for them all or else she'd feel incredibly guilty for those she didn't get to. So she'd keep walking, all the while making audible her thanks for the love they shouted out at her. For a second she thought she heard her name in the midst of the noise, her real name, but it wasn't loud enough for her to be sure.

"Cedes!" She turned around even with her team pushing her forward, and the mess of black hair bouncing up and down and hand frantically waving in the air made her stop.

"...Mike?" she mouthed. He smiled, although it was clear he was out of breath from trying to get her attention.

"Ms. Jones, you have to keep moving." The bass in the voice of her bodyguard rumbled even though the 6'5", 315 lb wall of a man was trying to be nice about doing his job.

"No no, I know him."

"Ms. Jones, we have to get you out of here on time. Please get in the car."

Mercedes tried to get around him but became suddenly aware of the man's size. Damn, no wonder why people could never get to her. Teddy was a one-man army, but apparently that was enough to keep the masses away. "Just let me speak to him," she begged, knowing she shouldn't have to.

"I'll pass on the message, but you have to get in the car, Ms. Jones."

Mercedes rolled her eyes and opened her clutch for an ink pen. "Give me your hand," she sighed.

"Ma'am?"

"Give me your hand!" Teddy did as he was told and stood still until she finished scribbling digits into his palm. "Tell him to call me. If you don't..." The fact that she couldn't even come up with a suitable punishment right on the spot told him just how serious she was.

He cleared his throat, "Yes ma'am."

"And don't leave until he gets it down!" She shouted out the window before rolling it up.

Sitting back in her seat she smiled to herself. After all these years Mercedes never expected for it to feel so good to see someone that reminded her of her past. Her mind immediately went to those that she hadn't seen in a while and those whose lives she only knew about through word of mouth. New Directions certainly weren't kids anymore, and sometimes maturing meant more than the gang just growing up, but growing apart too. But when she saw Mike Chang, something inside Mercedes _needed_ to know how he was. It felt like seeing a part of her that she hadn't recognized was missing until that very moment, and all she wanted to do was find out how she even managed to go on without it for so long.

* * *

She doesn't have much to say  
She goes on anyway  
Are you worried that she might not be your kind?  
And even though you've only met, already, you forget  
There's someone else beside you, besides her, in your mind

Do you hear my voice?  
Do you have a choice?  
She's a pretty girl, but you can't say she's beautiful  
The way you called me beauti_—_

Sam slammed his fist down on the alarm clock with a loud crack, shutting up the radio and every other function it possessed for good. He had fallen asleep in the studio again, and although the hard surface of the drafting desk was nowhere near as comfortable as his bed, it always managed to suffice when he couldn't tear away from his work. When he picked up his head to examine whatever he managed to get done before nodding off, a pair of almond eyes looked up at him with a fixed stare. He had seen those eyes many times before, beyond the pages of his sketch pad and buried so deep in his mind that they infiltrated his dreams and turned them into nightmares. Ever since he and his fianceé had started on their wedding plans, the stress of it all brought many things to a halt—including the flow of his creativity. For the past few months he had been drawing the same thing over and over and coming at the same dead end. The surge of frustration that ran through him crumbled the sheet up before fastballing it into the pile of the same mistakes made.

"Babe?"

He turned to see his reality in the doorway, standing 5'7" with disheveled hair and ice blue eyes hooded with sleep. Victoria was certainly a sight to see even when she wasn't, and part of what attracted Sam to her in the first place was the fact that as beautiful as she was, and as much as she was told so by others, she didn't wear superficiality on her sleeve. So for him, it came as no surprise that he could fall for someone like her in time.

They met sophomore year in college at the University of Kentucky. He was performing with his newly assembled cover band Seventh Dosage at one of the grungy hangout spots the upperclassmen usually hung out at. Victoria was there with a bunch of her friends but she was easily the most noticeable. Right away she reminded him so much of Olivia Wilde, and he had seen Tron: Legacy over a thousand times just for that woman's catsuit. A new face smiled at him all but coyly, and even in the midst of singing about another girl she managed to rein in his thoughts for a while. And 'a while' was longer than any other girl had ever lasted, so he told himself that just maybe it could work. _She_ could work. Too much time had been spent still enveloped in the haze of gray magic and he needed someone to break him free of it. Of _her_.

_Before he had the opportunity to debate with himself over whether or not he should go for it, she made the decision for him. Out of his peripheral he could see her slender frame slowly approaching, making him swallow hard and drum his hands on the bar as he waited for a drink he never ordered._

_"I'm Victoria," a smokey voice said to the side of his face._

_Sam looked over at the source. She was sitting with her back against the bar to get a better glimpse of him and suddenly telling her his name felt like a chore.  
_

_"You were amazing up there." He gave her a slow nod that managed to be as gracious as he intended, despite his fatigue. "You know, m__ost people find that song incredibly creepy but I totally get it. Loving someone so much that you could consume them, wanting them so bad that it seems like the only thing that could truly satisfy you is to have every bit of them inside you_. It sounds gothic and intense but...true love can be just as horrifying, don't you think?" When he didn't answer she looked away. Pulling her hair behind her ear she laughed nervously and said, "I guess I'm reading too much into things."  


_"I'm Sam." Just like that, the lioness that tracked him down no longer than a minute ago had turned into a docile lamb under his smile. Maybe this girl had been in love before too, or maybe she hadn't but knew exactly what to look out for if the opportunity to fall and fall hard came. Just maybe.  
_

"When are you going to stop doodling and come to bed?" Victoria yawned, swiping her hair out of her face so that she could see him better.

"Soon." Sam looked down at the blank page in front of him. "I have to get this concept art finished first. I've been putting it off for too long and..." he trailed off.

"Artist's block?"

"...Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"I know what's in my way, I just...don't know how to move it. I've tried everything."

A small smile spread across the brunette's face as she crossed the floor. "I don't think you've tried _everything_," she said coquettishly, straddling his thighs in his office chair.

_She really doesn't have a clue  
Of what I've meant to you  
Could you hide that from a woman who's so sweet?  
It wouldn't be fair to her, to have her and compare her  
A love so divided it would never be complete  
_

_Do you hear my voice?  
Do you have a choice?  
She's a pretty girl, but you can't say she's beautiful  
The way you called me beautiful  
_

A slender hand slid down his chest and light kisses were placed on his neck. Sam closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the sudden change of plans, to indulge in the scent he had become infatuated with and the feel of lips he had spent so long getting to know. When his guard was let down low enough and long enough, the same pair of eyes he had put down on paper earlier flashed before his own. The same thorn in his side that he thought had long been removed had only sank deeper into him, only to pierce through the other side slowly.

"Does it feel good?" Victoria asked obliviously, in between wet kisses.

"...Vic."

She whispered on his jawline, "Yeah?"

Sam took her hand off the front of his sweats and held it in his, brushing over the diamond that decorated her ring finger with his thumb. "I'll be in soon, okay?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"If it were nothing you would have told me. So what is it?"

"I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Well...do you want to talk about it?"

The worry she let wrinkle her forehead brought his lips to hers for a kiss, one that had the potential to assure her that he was fine. All Sam could do was hope that she believed it enough to at least save the conversation for another time. Hopefully she would wait long enough for him to actually know what to tell her and where to start.

_Is it a fantasy_  
_Just a fantasy, t__o play pretend like nothing's wrong_  
_Am I still the same as you remember?_

_Feels like reality_  
_Everyday reality_  
_I play pretend like nothing's wrong_

_And can't you see_  
_We're nothing without love_?  
_So find me_,  
_Remind me of our love_


	3. The Variable She Had Become

Chapter 3

**The Variable She Had Become**

"And 5, 6, 7, 8—_and_ 1..."

She danced, hitting every move so hard even a blind man would do a double take. There was no room to be wrong, to let up and possibly make a mistake that could have her body getting too comfortable with doing it the wrong way. No, she had to be on all the time.

In the beginning she used to push herself for the sake of proving something. The world needed to know that Mercy Jones could be a triple threat, too; she was just as capable, just as talented, and just as desirable as any other female in the game. As a matter of fact, she had a whole lot more than what they did. And for Mercedes, the moment she realized that truth was the moment she stopped trying to fit the definition of the two little words that attempted to describe the magnitude of what she already was. Joan Rivers be damned—_That_ was when she decided to do her best every time, because she deserved to be seen at her best _all_ the time...and if she just so happened to shed a pound or tone an arm in the process, so the fuck what?

Farai, her choreographer, was instructing the backup dancers from the sidelines. "And 1, 2—KACK! KACK! KACK!—5, 6, 7, and 8! Demarcus!"

The same dancer got out of step for the umpteenth time that day. All the dancers messed up from time to time but Demarcus certainly was the only one who showed it on his face, making him the target of all Farai's critiques.

"Pick it the hell up!—Come on now!" Hearing his corrections for her backup never bothered Mercedes before, because it always gave the best results, but now she was looking in the mirror and could see the way Demarcus was handling every word.

"Stopstopstopstopstop." Mercedes called out, waving her hands in the air until music finally cut off. Farai tried his best to determine if the look on her face was one of confusion or complete disgust.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing." She lied. "We've been here all day and none of you have eaten. Now I know it's crunch time with the tour coming up, but I can't have any of you passing out on me. Take thirty. You too, Farai." The room filled with exhales of relief and appreciation. "Actually, we're done here."

Farai's arched his perfect brow. "We are?"

"Yes, we are."

"Mercy, these numbers need to be polished. Bad."

"And they will be, just not today—Demarcus!" The baby-faced youngin' almost made it out the door undetected.

"Ma'am?" She told him about calling her that (twenty eight wasn't _that_ old) but when he did she was always reminded of meeting Demarcus' mother, a single mother of three, and could see how he was raised to be such a respectful young man. Now it bothered her less and less each time he said it.

"Before you go, can we talk?"

He didn't answer, but she could tell by the way his grip tightened around the strap of his backpack as he approached her that he was nervous. Or maybe he just wanted to hit her, but neither of those feelings were going to do him any good.

"Do you know why you're here?" she asked once the room had cleared out. There was no one for him to look at other than her but his eyes shift around like he was put on the spot.

His voice was barely there when he said, "...To be a backup dancer?"

Mercedes shook her head. "Do you know _why_ you're here?"

"I...guess I don't."

"You're not here 'to be' anything. You _are_ a dancer—a beautiful one, and that's why you're here. Yes, you're going to get out of step sometimes and it's going to suck, but believe me when I say I know you're working just as hard as everyone else. But, Dem, you can't compare yourself to everyone around you or you'll be making the biggest mistake of all—and it's not gonna be something anyone else can fix for you. It's not gonna go away with more practice, and it's not gonna to take you anywhere but farther away from who you are."

Demarcus looked down at his feet chewed on his bottom lip in contemplation. There was no need to confirm or deny whether she was right about his insecurities because it was clear that she knew. He just didn't expect her to care. He was her youngest dancer, fresh out of high school and by far her riskiest decision. But for Mercedes, when he came into that audition room she knew he had a special something that could stand against the grandest achievement on the résumé of a seasoned professional. She chose him.

"You were an amazing dancer before Mercy Jones and you're still one now," she continued. "Enjoy this time in your life. Have fun. You're about to do what you love for all the world to see and not everyone gets a chance to do that. So this tour is just as much yours as it is mine." He looked up at her and a faint trace of gratitude curled his lips. "But I'll only share it with you." Now it was a full blown smile. She pulled him into a hug before shooing him off and tried not to be undone by the 'thank you' he said next to her ear.

She took a second to acknowledge the burning in almost every muscle in her body as she stretched on the floor in straddle position. Tomorrow was going to hurt. Just when she had gotten used to a silence she hadn't heard since 7 that morning, a voice interrupted the stillness.

"_I fouuund youuuu, Ms. New Booty!_" it sang. Mercedes looked over her shoulder to see Mike and shrieked. She forgot her telling him to come by whenever he was free.

Ten years had done them both good. She might have been more familiar with the spotlight but there was no doubt that Mike was just as notable behind the scenes. Not only had he been frequenting as a guest choreographer for So You Think You Can Dance, but he already had clientele from Britney to Bieber under his belt and was in the process of starting his own dance studio in Chicago. Mike had lost count of how many times Mercedes said she was proud of him in the span of their conversation, but each time was just as genuine as the first. For him, being proud of her went without saying. Seeing her on the street that night, hearing her name shouted out by complete strangers, reminded him that she was doing exactly what she always said she would. Even if she hadn't turned around, even if she couldn't spot him in the crowd or never got the chance to in the process of being whisked away to some place important, there would always be a piece of him that couldn't fault the unsung hero for finally being heard. Because this was her dream.

The two of them sat across from each other on the studio floor, much like they used to back in their glee club days when they were allowed "down time."

"It's good to see you."

Mercedes smiled lightly. "What are you talking about? I'm everywhere." Even though she was joking she couldn't hide the hint of sadness that crept up in her tone.

"I mean _really_ see you. We missed you at the reunion."

"Yeah, about that..." She proceeded to play with the tongue of his shoe as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. It wasn't that she didn't want to see everyone; she did. And she would've if she didn't talk herself out of it. What was the point? Anyone that acknowledged her existence back then still did today and she simply wasn't in the mood for hollow stories of those who 'knew her when' when they didn't know her at all.

"You should've come."

"Either way I'm the monster, Mike. I don't go, I think I'm too good for everyone. I go, and I'm rubbing my life in their faces. It's a catch-22."

He would've been lying if he said he hadn't heard the 'who she think she is?' gossip for himself that night.

"They probably said I've changed," Mercedes continued as if she could read his mind. "I can't say that they're wrong, but what gives anyone the right to make that call on my life?"

"You're the same person just...with a different outlook."

"How's T?" she asked, changing the subject. The unimpressed look on Mike's face answered the question for her. _Have I really been _that_ far out of the loop? _she thought.

"We want different things and I just hope that whatever she wants makes her happy. Maybe we'll get it right one day, but for now it's just complicated is all. But then again I don't have to tell you about complicated. 'BreakUp/BreakDown' was the soundtrack to my life for the longest."

Mercedes smiled at the mention of one of her own songs only for it to fade knowing the state of mind she was in when she wrote it. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"Hey. That's life, right? Things change." She nodded at the sad truth. "And one thing I know for sure has."

"What's that?"

"Booty Camp may have kicked Mercedes' ass, but it ain't got shit on Mercy." He had been waiting to hear her laugh since he got there and it was worth the wait. It made him feel good to know that she could look back on the old days and have memories worth smiling about.

"Honestly, it wasn't even like what we were doing was hard or anything. It's just that the more he got on my case, the tireder I got."

"_You're fine! Push through it!_" Mike mimicked in Will's voice.

"_Kick-ball-change! Kick-ball-change!_—I wanted to kick _his_ balls for a change. But I know that if it wasn't for that experience I wouldn't have been able to help one of my dancers today. He's eighteen, just a baby, and the moment he wanted to give up...I saw myself in him. My old self, anyway."

"You're a fighter, Cedes. I'm sure whatever it is you told him was something he needed to hear."

"I hope so."

"So, would you still have kicked Schue in the nuts?" Mike teased.

"With pleasure. If I could just go back in time..."

"Why go back? We've got right now." He gave her a wicked smile. In next to no time he had hooked up his iPhone to the sound system and was scrolling through music. "Show Schuester what you got."

"Don't test me," Mercedes warned. It was too late. He was already gliding across the floor in her direction like Usher.

I'm a bad man  
But I'm a sucker for love like I'm an addict  
Girl I really love the way you looking at me  
So I'ma show you the meaning of what a man is  
I'm nasty

Car go zoom, zoom  
And the speakers in the trunk go boom, boom  
I can give it to you fast or slow  
Girl, I'm a gentleman, I'll open your door  
Get the party started like...

He was amazing. That was still the same. Where others had words, Mike could be just as articulate with every single joint in his body. In every step it was evident just how much he loved to dance and why his unbridled passion would always put him ahead of the rest. He could do it all and was very aware of that fact as he danced in circles around Mercedes, provoking her with silly faces and being so close that she could feel the warmth of his body. But the second he got too comfortable she parroted back his entire combination before making up one of her own.

Mike couldn't even fake unimpressed. He always knew Mercedes could move, but the more she danced the more he wondered why she wasn't as utilized as their other classmates back in the day. She could do anything. Be as sharp and precise as the kick of the beat or as fluid and sensual as everything that went unnoticed underneath it all. The only way to describe it was to say that she danced like she sang.

She could do anything.

By the time the chorus and come around again Mike couldn't stand by and watch her dance without getting the urge to join in. The look of them in the mirror, doing the combo side-by-side was something else. They were so in sync that they couldn't help but smile at their reflection. It was evident that they were both out of breath but refusing to stop because it felt so good. Not wanting either of them to pass out, he pulled her into his frame and moved her around the floor in a slow waltz for them both to cool down. The gesture alone made her nose scrunch up in a smile.

"So fancy," Mercedes teased.

"Me? No, where'd _you_ learned to waltz?"

"Cinderella," she said flippantly, as if the answer was obvious.

"Well it's official. Mikey Camp ain't got shit on Mercy either."

"Thank you for this dance. I can't remember the last time I danced just cause."

"Well, if you ever need a reason to dance...you can always call me."

* * *

**NYC**

"Yes. Uh huh. Right."

Victoria wrote down a number on the notepad she brought to dinner. Since the wedding planner couldn't make it as promised, she was determined to have their much-needed session over the phone.

"Yes, I have my dress, and it's a light shade of purple for the bridesmaids_—_Sammy, do you have a purple tie?" She covered the receiver with her hand to address her silent fiancé.

"Huh? Um, no. I don't think so." He answered before turning his head to gaze at the hustle and bustle of the scene outside the window. The red-eyed taxi cabs, the flashing lights, the thousands of hurried pedestrians with places to be. He never pegged himself as the city boy type, because he wasn't, but here he was. It wasn't until he heard his name that the spell of his panoramic view was broken.

"Mmhm. We're celebrating. He has been nabbing clients left and right and I'm just so proud of him." Victoria put her hand on top of Sam's and smiled brightly at him. "Yes! Perfect. Great. Okay, see you then. Alright. Bye." She blew out a huff of exhaustion.

Sam eyed the notepad covered in words he couldn't make out and tiny sketches. "Tough stuff, huh?"

"You have no idea. There's still so much work to be done. We've got to send out the invitations, pick out a cake, the venue, the music. Have you found a tux yet?"

Sam took a long sip of his wine in response, "Hm?" he hummed innocently into his glass. Victoria snatched her hand away from his.

"Sam! You were supposed to do that weeks ago!"

"I know, I know. I will."

"You will? Will when?"

"I don't know when, but I will." Thank god for the waitress coming their way with food in tow because he was certain his answer was going to get a (unintentional) rise out of her.

After three glasses of wine between them and light conversation, he thought she had let it slide. They were enjoying their meal in a comfortable silence, and he thought she found it in her heart to let it go.

"Why are you stalling?"

Should have known better.

Sam chewed on his shrimp for as long as he could before answering, "I'm not stalling. I'm...careful."

"It's a suit, Sam. Just a suit."

"I want to make sure it's the right one, you know?"

"No, I don't," she laughed, but only out of misplaced frustration. "You haven't picked out your suit, you haven't told me how many people I can expect from your side of the family, and you said Stevie will be your best man but you haven't picked out any other groomsmen. Now I know eight months seems so far away but, believe it or not, you're running out of time."

"I know, and I'm—" He stopped abruptly. With each passing second his jaw tightened a little bit more.

Victoria titled her head at the sight before her. "What's wrong?"

"...Nothing." He lied.

Maybe he was the only one to notice that _her_ song was playing overhead. Or maybe he wasn't, but he was just the only person it bothered. Even with the chatter throughout the restaurant and clinking of silverware on porcelain, he still managed to hear that voice. Sam's eyes rolled up to the ceiling and asked God if he was having fun up there, screwing things up. Confusing him. Making more of a mess in his head than what already was.

"Ugh. This song." Victoria placed her hand over her heart and swayed side to side in her seat. "It's so beautiful," she confessed. "Don't you just love her?"

"I used to." Sam lowered his eyes from the heavens to see his fianceé staring in his face with suspicion playing on her brows.

_Fuck. _"I said I..love..food." He skewered another shrimp onto his fork and shoved it in his mouth before he could get another case of the Freudian slip. _Shit, shit, shit_.

"Well I love her," Victoria continued. "As a matter of fact, this song would be so perfect for me to walk down the aisle to—"

"NO!" She jerked back at him and all curious heads around them turned in their direction. "I mean it's a popular song. Don't you think it might be a little cliché to use it?

Victoria closed her mouth from the initial shock of his tone. "I don't care. It's a great song, Sam, and I think it fits our story perfectly. It's going in."

* * *

"...is that okay with you?"

Mercedes hadn't heard a word Crystal said prior, but she nodded.

"Then it's settled."

She turned her attention from her phone to see her assistant hanging up on hers. "What's settled?"

The look on Crystal's face said something she'd dare not say out loud, but she was beginning to see that part of her job description included repeating herself next to always. "The gift. For your mother's surprise party." By the way Mercedes rolled her eyes she could tell she wouldn't have to repeat herself this time. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"I didn't mean to."

"I've been telling you about it for—"

"I know, Crystal. Alright? I don't need you to remind me that I suck at being a daughter."

"You don't."

"I do. My mom's too nice to admit it and my dad knows he doesn't have to." Her phone ringing kept her from saying more on the matter. Not that she wanted to. Crystal may have been her personal assistant, but her personal life she kept to herself. Well...almost.

"When are you going to go grocery shopping?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes at her beloved pain in the ass, taking the form of Noah Puckerman. "A spare key is for emergencies only," she stressed, even though it wouldn't change his ways.

He scoffed. "As if me starving isn't an emergency."

_It wouldn't be if you went to your own place, _she thought. Although they hadn't been roomies for years, it was safe to say they still sometimes suffered from residual habits. Like him going through her fridge when there was nothing in his and her crashing on his couch when she was too tired or too lonely to go home.

"It's too quiet in here. You should get a big ass dog. Might bring some life to this place," Puck concluded, biting down on something that sounded awfully crunchy.

"Yeah, and some piss on my carpet, too."

"I'd feel a lot better about you living alone if you got one."

"Maybe I should just get a man. Preferably one without a job, that way he can spend all his energy putting a dent in my new couch and making sure leftovers don't go bad," she sighed. "A dog is easier to train, though."

Puck laughed, "Man, you need to get laid, Chel."

She smiled at the nickname he still carried for her since the beginning of their friendship, when he realized she reminded him of the short and shapely character from The Road To El Dorado. Back then it used to annoy her because he only used it _to_ annoy her. "Don't I know it."

"Hey, are we still on for this weekend?" His voice was muffled by the inside of a cup as he downed some OJ.

"Hell yeah we are. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"Good, because I broke up with Natasha and she won't be hanging around bitching about not getting inside jokes anymore."

Mercedes pursed her lips in amusement. He couldn't have gotten rid of that skeezer quick enough to suit her. "I'm happy for you, Punk."

"Thanks. But let's just have a kick-ass time and not talk about her."

"I won't bring anything up if you don't." That usually was the rule between them: don't talk about what you don't want to talk about. If you chose to bring it up, then you also chose to get a response. Good or bad.

"Cool. Welp..." Mercedes couldn't see it, but Puck was rubbing his stomach from his fill of her snacks. "I owe you a bag of Tostitos and some juice. Just put it on my tab."

"Oh my g_—_BYE, Puck." She hung up on him.

"I don't know why you two don't just make it official."

Mercedes wiped the smile off her face and cut her eyes at Crystal. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and Noah. I notice that anyone he dates that you don't approve of never lasts long, and the same goes for any guy you date that he doesn't care for. The dates, the cute nicknames... You two should just be together."

"We are nothing more than friends. We just have a history that makes us particularly close and protective of each other, but that's all it is. Trust me."

Crystal hummed, completely unconvinced, "Mmmhmm."

"Girl, please." Mercedes swatted her away playfully and looked out the car window.

The world seemed like it was passing by so fast that she could barely catch a glimpse of what it was made of. Sunset Boulevard looked so different from when she first got to California, and she couldn't quite figure out if it was because she was on the outside looking in or the other way around. The palm trees were just as lush, and the sky was just as blue, but taking the trip down this stretch of road didn't feel the same. No glamour, no unspoken excitement in the air. There was nothing to wish for and wait to come true.

And that's when she saw it.

With the parade of colors and absolute disarray that was the vanity and frivolity of the Sunset Strip, she wasn't sure of how she came across it among all the clutter of billboards and other attention-seeking structures. Those were her eyes, up so many feet in the air, covering the back of a building. The lips could pass as hers, and it could've been her nose, too. But the eyes.

"Crys, wh...who does that look like to you?" Mercedes tapped her assistant and tried to put her in her line of sight.

"Where?"

"Up there!" She pointed.

"I don't know." Squinting her eyes, she read_ Grand Theft Auto VII_. "But it's a video game advertisement, so it's probably a fictitious character."

"But who does it _look_ like?" Despite Mercedes, Crystal shrugged. "Girl, you work with me every single day. That doesn't look like me to you?"

_No. _"Well maybe a lit_—_HEY!" Mercedes grabbed Crystal's phone out of her hand and snapped a picture of the advertisement before they completely passed it.

She handed it back to her but didn't let go until she said, "You're going to take care of this."

Crystal panicked, "Take care of it?" Her mind went directly to having somebody 'whacked'.

"If my likeness is being used without my permission or compensation I can sue, right?"

"It's possible, under right of publicity...if...that actually is your likeness."

"Crystal!" She jumped at the exclamation. "I'm almost 100 percent sure that's me."

"I guess I could get in touch with the game developers and see what's going on. But it's going to be hard to call them on it with you being a public figure and all. Your persona is borderline fair game to the world."

"I'll take that chance. You could be right; maybe it's just a coincidence. Then again, maybe I'm right and it's not. Ether way, I need whoever's responsible to look me in the eyes and tell me who she is."


	4. The Confusion She Had Become Pt1

Chapter 4

**The Confusion She Had Become **(Part 1)

By the end of the week the only thing she wanted to do was disappear. Just for second. Enough time for her to take a deep breath. Or blink. And if it wasn't for the B'Day album blasting she wouldn't have had enough energy to make it through the promo shoot, and those within earshot wouldn't have been treated to a mini concert as she sang along to "Suga Mama" all but coyly, grooving to the go-go beat.

I'ma be like a jolly rancher that you get from the corner store  
I'ma be like a waffle cone that's dripping down to the floor

The way you do it for me I can't lie  
I'm 'bout to be up in the mall all night  
Whatever I get you're putting it on  
Don't give me no lip let mama do it all

"Beautiful."

Hearing that, and the click of the camera lens, was all Mercedes needed to know that she was giving the photographer what he wanted. She stifled the yawn she felt coming on. There was no time to sleep because she had plans for the night and they were actually ones she made for herself, which was rare. Since their impromptu dance session she and Mike had been keeping up contact and made plans to go to the Lakers game (even though he was a Heat fan). He was good people, he made great conversation, and he was nice to her because it was his nature, not because he had a hidden agenda that needed to be cloaked with a sweet smile. She could never have enough of people like that in her life. It also didn't hurt that he had a rock hard body that she sometimes patted at playfully more than she should, and moves on the dance floor that took her mind straight to the bedroom with thoughts of how incredible he'd be with that pelvis.

"I think we got it, maleńka." The photographer called behind the camera, thick with a Portuguese accent.

Her lifesaver came through the door holding two coffees, his ratty Pink Floyd tee interrupting the atmosphere of the stark white photography studio. Mercedes' eyes widened with gratitude as she reached out for a cup. "Fucking love you," she whispered. Probably talking to the espresso she caressed between her palms. "Thanks." Now that, that was for him.

Puck switched the cup out her hands with the appropriate one, chastising her with his eyes for being so hasty. "While you're out on your little date, I'll be picking out all the movies you hate that I'm going to force you to watch with me when you get back."

"Fine by me, scrub. And it's not a date. Mike and I are just hanging out. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were a little jel-o, mister."

"I'm not jealous. Well, maybe I am. It just makes me feel special being your only dude friend. I don't need him stealing my thunder."

"Awww," Mercedes teased in her best baby voice. "You _are_ special, Punky Pie. No one could ever get on my nerves the way you do. And if it makes you feel any better, I enjoy being your go-to 'chick friend.'"

"Good. Whenever I get married you're going to be the best man. You know that, right?"

She chuckled, "That's if I'm not the bride. According to my mom we're so in love we can't see it."

Puck looked down at his friend as she laughed at the expense of love. There really was no reason for the two of them not to be together. They had known each other for thirteen years, been friends for twelve, best friends for nine, and lived together for five of those years until she moved out to give him the freedom he never asked for. The numbers added up to one loyal ass relationship, but if there was ever anything more between them it had yet to be discovered. They may have slept under the same covers on their movie nights, and his head may have found her thighs and her bosom more comfortable than any pillow ever fluffed, but not even something as small as a chaste kiss on the lips was shared between them. Mercedes proved to be the only female outside of family that he didn't have to bed to feel close to, and it told him just how much respect he had for her. She was a shoulder for him to lean on, a listening ear, and a necessary kick in the pants whenever he needed to be confronted about his shit. Which was always.

"You just make sure you have some type of fun tonight. You're like the worst person ever when you've had a shit time and I have to hear all about it."

"Oh screw that. I _always_ have to sit through the tales about your flop sexcapades. That's how it's always been, my friend. You listen to my woes, I hear about your hoes."

"You're right. Maybe we should swap just to keep things fresh. You get some hoes, I'll get some woes. Ready? Break!" She cackled at him and he pulled her into his arms, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

Yeah, she'd be his best man.

* * *

If there was one thing Mercedes loved, it was basketball. She had a thing for the scuffing of sneakers squeaking against the hardwood as the players ran back and forth, the crisp swishing sound the net made when a point was scored. It all was like music to her ears and sitting courtside, dangerously close to it all, only intensified her addiction to the game.

She watched with her elbow on her knees and adjusted the brim of her fitted hat with the LA logo on it. The gesture elicited a breathy laugh from Mike. It looked adorable on her, sitting atop her long tresses and enhancing the swag she already had.

"What?" Mercedes asked with a smile, hearing him behind her. He shook his head but it didn't keep her from narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion. She took her cap off and secured it on his head, saying that she was going to tweet a pic of him and his betrayal to his team.

**Mercy Jones **MsMercyJo

_Making MChangChoreo a part of #LakerNation. Sorry KingJames! -xo_

"Did you seriously tweet that to LeBron?"

Mercedes smirked at her phone before putting it away. "Check your mentions."

**LeBron James **KingJames

_RT MsMercyJo About to make MChangChoreo a part of #LakerNation. Sorry KingJames! -xo (Damn it's like that?)_

"Great. I won't be able to tweet for weeks."

She giggled and hooked her arm around his to comfort him. He couldn't stay mad at her because that was the affect she had whenever she laughed or smiled, and it made him just as playful. Their sillyness throughout the night had landed them on the jumbo screen in the arena and now it had attracted the attention of someone else.

"I think you have an admirer," Mike said in between ice-rattling slurps of his Pepsi. One of the players from the Celtics had taken the opportunity to look their way every time he ran up the court. She had seen it too but tried to ignore it.

"Oh. I met him at an afterparty a few months ago and we talked for a time but, he thought that meant we were _talking_ talking, not talking talking."

"Wow. That's not confusing at all." Mercedes nudged him and he grinned at the feeling before asking a question that had been on his mind since their first reunion. "So are you seeing anyone?"

"YES!" She startled him by cheering for the three-pointer that put the Lakers ahead. "No. Single as a dollar bill," she said, answering the previous question.

Mike watched at her while she watched the game. "I find that hard to believe," he said honestly.

"Yeah well when you have a net worth attached to you it's hard to know who's there to give and who wants to take."

"That's true, but I think you deserve to be in a good relationship. A real one." With that she turned to offer him her undivided attention. Even in the midst of the unruly crowd behind them and the intense match in front of them, he had it.

"In this business, looking for something real—or someone real—is like dumpster diving; you put yourself in an awkward place, and if you do enough digging you _might_ find something worth it all under the junk. But more often than not you'll just pull up more trash and come to realize everything about your situation stinks."

The buzzer sounded and he didn't know what to say at that point. It was clear that she was comfortable with her inhibitions and very much alone. Very beautiful, very smart, very successful, but alone. Mike had been prepping to court at her all night. Dropping hints that suggested he saw her as something more than an old chum, sharing glances that lasted a little longer than what was usual, and she still didn't bite. She held his hand, she rested her head on his shoulder, and she even draped her leg over his knee but she didn't give a light green enough for him. And now he knew why.

"Well, I'm real."

* * *

Sam looked down at the burning cigarette and wondered when it sitting between his fingers had stopped feeling so foreign. He put it to his lips, inhaled, and wondered when the taste of it had started getting so addictive. It wasn't like him, but so were a lot of things as of late. The couch in the living room, the array of low fat yogurts and diet sodas in the refrigerator, and the painting that hung above the bed that he didn't have the heart to admit that he hated.

The phone call that shook his entire world moments ago still vibrated in his head.

_"Mr. Sam Evans?"_

_"This is he."_

_"Oh thank god." The voice sighed in relief. "I'm Crystal Moore, calling on behalf of..."_

The veins in his wrist tingled at the mention of her name. It wasn't the same as hearing it on the lips of entertainment news reporters or seeing it decorate Madison Square Garden. Because if he really tried, he could tune all that out. But this time it was too close for any kind of comfort and he only had himself to blame.

_"Ms. Jones has reason to believe that there is commercial use of her image involved in your latest project."_

Sam wanted to tell the woman that the drawing meant nothing, that it was just a product of idle hands and an active imagination, but he'd be lying. The truth was that it meant too much to him. It was too personal. He was too involved. Every stroke of his pen meant something even if he couldn't see the full picture until it was completely finished. But in the end he agreed to attend the meeting her adamant P.A. had already set with the company he freelanced for, and suddenly he started to feel as if he'd been cordially invited to an ass kicking.

He couldn't say no. Sam was his own boss, he made up his own hours, and he had nothing to do. Even if he did have something planned he probably would have cancelled if it meant having the opportunity to look his demons in the eye, if only to tell them that they had no power over him anymore. Yes, that's what he'd do. The bittersweet memories he had of Mercedes Jones may have coaxed his hand into creating the character, but that didn't change the fact that there was still bitter in the sweet. And for a long time that was the only flavor he knew of. And in silence, he was curious as to know if she had tasted it too. Did she even know it was him? She couldn't have. If she did, there would be no meeting. Or maybe there would be; he didn't know. He didn't know her. Not these days. Her thoughts, her wants, her likes and dislikes_—_they were all perfect strangers to him. Sam was surprised enough that she could even recognize the illustration of what he remembered most: the stone cold look in her eyes when she closed the door on him no less than ten years ago.

She couldn't have known.

"Baby?" Victoria's voice rang out from the front of their apartment, along with the jingling of her keys and the rustle of plastic bags. Hearing her interrupted his thoughts of someone else and turned his stomach with guilt. "There you are. Can you help me put away these groceries?"

Without a word, he agreed.

"So I finally narrowed down the places that I have in mind to cater the reception." She spoke while she unpacked the food he put it away. "I'll have to set up a date that we can go in and try it. See if you like it too."

Sam sighed into the cabinet. Ever since their engagement it seemed like they never talked about anything else anymore. The fun things. The stupid things. The carefree things. It was always _This needs to be done, and this, and this, and this too! _It was overwhelming for him and the sad part was that it had to be even more overwhelming for Victoria. She was doing most of the work, but because he didn't want to help. He just didn't know how or where to start aside from nibbling on cake samples and nodding in approval at whatever she held up.

"I've been thinking about what you said...about me procrastinating and you're right. So, I'm going to get fitted for a tux tomorrow." Seeing her stop and breathe a sigh of relief made him feel a lot better than he had been the past couple days. He was finally starting to be of use again.

"That's the best thing I've heard all day. I was starting to worry, you know? Cold feet this early?" Although she laughed and he was glad to have eased her mind, he couldn't join in. "I cannot wait to be Mrs. Sam Evans."

That's all it took for his stomach to spin like a tornado, whirling around and disturbing the usual peace. It wasn't the first time he felt like that, but it was still easier to stomach than the last time...

_He still managed to yell shamelessly through his incessant laughing. By the way their cart was spinning around clock-wise and counter clock-wise, jerking and pausing, faster and faster, he knew his previous shit-talking had been successful and the operator was trying to show who was boss. Somehow he wound up getting into a one-sided competition with the little girls in the cart behind them, seeing who could make the most noise. Their screams were more than likely sincere cries of terror and nausea, but he was sure anything would sound better than their shrill voices._

_"I'M A ROCKET SHIP ON MY WAY TO MAAAARRRRRS ON A COLLISION COURSE! I AM A SATELLITE! I'M OUT OF CONTROL! I'M A SEX MACHINE READY TO RELOOOOAAAAD, LIKE AN ATOM BOMB ABOUT TO OH, OH, OH, OH, OH EXPLOOOOODE!""_

_Him shouting Queen at the top of his lungs, the sheer angry volume of it compromising any and all ability to be melodic made Mercedes' eyes fill with tears. "Oh my god, Sam. PLEASE stop!" She whined through her laughter, trying to spare her burning abdominal muscles, but when he cracked she was completely done for. The red-faced boy shut his eyes with the veins in his neck bulging out as he continued to shout._

_"I'M BURNING THROUGH THE SKYYYY, YEAH! TWO HUNDRED DEGREES, THAT'S WHY THE CALL ME MR. FAHRENHEEEIIIIIIT! I'M TRAVELING AT THE SPEED OF LIIIIIIIIIIGHT! I WANNA MAKE A SUPERSONIC WOMAN OF Y—"_

_His solo was cut short by the pair of soft lips he had been aching for all night. She had played it coy well enough for him not to see their first kiss coming, and even with the absolute discord going on around them, all time and motion had slowed just enough for her to be the only thing he could focus on._

_"DON'T STOP ME! DON'T STOP ME!" She started up with just as much excitement as him once she pulled back, causing Sam to smile big enough to put The Joker to shame._

_"HEY, HEY, HEEEEY!" He continued on in his best Freddie Mercury impression._

_DON'T STOP ME! DON'T STOP ME! OOOH OOH OOHHHH!"_

_"I LIIIIIKE IT!" Sam growled._

___"DON'T STOP ME! DON'T STOP ME!"_  


___"HAVE A GOOD TIME! GOOD TIME!"_

_______"DON'T STOP ME! DON'T STOP ME!"_

_______The both looked at each other before doing the "Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!" in unison and succumbing to so many laughs it threatened to make them sicker than the sporadic spinning of the ride did._

Sam stood there like a wall, feeling Victoria's lips pull away from his.

"I'm gonna make you so happy," she told him with a smile, wiping the traces of her lipstick off his mouth. "But you've been smoking."

He forgot to open a window, gargle, shower. The normal procedure that took made it easier to smoke one behind her back. "Sorry," he murmured.

"You got to stop sometime, Sam. It's not good for you."

"I know, I know. Lung cancer, emphysema, stomas...all that jazz."

"_And _smelly clothes, smelly house. I want to get the most out of spending the rest of our lives together, babe. Don't cheat me with a habit like that."

She kissed him with a closed mouth then proceeded to move about the kitchen, leaving him to think about all the way he had already cheated her out of him.

* * *

His body bounced up from the couch she pushed him down on. One minute she was giving him a tour of her house and the next he was touring her mouth. He only meant to give her a tiny peck her on the lips, just something to show her that he was interested because all his words hadn't been enough. She let him in. She let him kiss her, and before long she let him touch her, wrapping her hands around his wrists and guiding his touch to places he was too much of a gentleman to go for uninvited.

"Shit," Mike breathed. She was on top of him, fully clothed but ravishing his mouth and swirling her hips around his demin-clad erection. The moans she hummed into the kiss made him grip her backside and roll his pelvis up into her movements. It wasn't until she reached her hand down between them to touch him that his better judgement came back and grabbed at her hand.

"Mercedes, no. We can't do this." He panted once he broke free of her lips. She sat up and looked at him, the upper half of her body calm and neutral but her lower half still horny and working him. "Please listen." He clutched onto her hips to still her and she released an irritated huff.

"Look, this doesn't have to mean anything_—_"

"You're not that girl, Mercedes. You've never been. Random hookups...that's not you."

"You're far from random, Mike."

"That may be true, but you know it's not. I don't want to take advantage of you."

"I am in complete control of myself. You could never take advantage of me unless I want you to. And right now, in this way, I do. I know you care, so what's so wrong with wanting to be screwed by somebody who gives a damn?"

"It's because I give a damn that I can't!" He didn't mean to raise his voice but it was too late, she had already shifted backward. "If I were to sleep with you, Mercedes, it would mean something to me. And I just don't think I could handle giving myself to you and you giving yourself to no one."

If he looked deep enough he could see something behind her eyes had switched on.

_"So that's it then. You don't trust me." _

_Her refusal to confirm or deny was enough of an answer as she looked down at her battling thumbs. Why were they doing this? In four days she'd be gone and the last thing she wanted to remember was them going at each other's throats._

_"Mercedes, do you or do you not trust me?" he said, his __voice stern but not cold._

_She swallowed before she could look up at him and whisper, "...I want to." It hurt her to say it and judging by the way he stepped back it hurt him to hear it. But the pained expression soon morphed into something she'd never seen on him before. He was angry._

_"You want to... You WANT to." He kept repeating it until each time, every new inflection, squeezed her throat tighter and __tighter. "We have love, but no trust. Do you not see how that's f'd up?"_

_"I don't expect you to see it like me. Before you there was no one. No wrong turns in love, no mistakes, no sleepless nights. I didn't have a blueprint to judge us buy and know if this was what it felt like to truly be loved. Before you, there was me. I loved me, I told me I was beautiful, and I was okay with that for a time. Then I spend one summer with this amazing guy and he's telling me everything I never heard but always wanted to hear, and suddenly I'm not myself. I gave him parts of me I never gave to anyone else, did things I said I never would, and we made promises to each other that I held onto and...then he leaves." _

_Mercedes saw him open his mouth to protest but she kept going. "I know it wasn't your fault, but it happened. I had one heck of a time convincing myself that summer meant nothing to you__—_that I meant nothing to you, and that's why it was so easy for you to go. I didn't keep calling what we had a fling for you to get the picture; I did it for me. I did it because if I let you persuade me into thinking it was more than that then I'd have to deal with knowing it was but remembering it wasn't enough."

_Seeing her strip her soul in front of him made him move closer to cover her._

_"You couldn't even wait." He stopped at those words. "We may not have been together but I was faithful to our promise. And to find out that you robbed yourself of having me be the first person to show you just how much I loved you, and have you do the same for me? That hurt."_

_"You said you'd never judge me about that," his voice __croaked from breaking up the silence he held onto._

_"I'm not. But you don't seem to understand that it's not about you losing your virginity to a stripper. It's about her not being me! But the fact that she makes a living off of being detached from everything that I was willing to give to you is a slap in the face to me."_

_His chest heaved up and down. Shame, anger, passion__—a toxic concoction of emotions were shaken up in him and boiling over. "What about you, huh? You can tell me you love me, and you may or may not mean it, but the truth doesn't matter because you don't trust me anyway. You said it yourself. But none of that stopped you from giving it up and now you want to be the one to walk away." Her expression fell and he had already regretted his words, but she needed to know how he felt. It wasn't fair that she could say how hurt she was and he couldn't express his own torment. _

___"So what is it then?" He continued. "You can trust me with your body but not the things that really matter? Not the things that hurt the most when they get fucked with? If you ask me, that doesn't make you that much different from the stripper. You just happen to put on a more believable show and I'm the sucker who keeps paying for it."_

_He didn't have much time to regret his words before the slap stung skin and made his cheek blush in the shape of her hand. It was a raw reaction, much like his words, but the way she brought her fists up to her mouth with her eyes watering and wide told him she was apologetic...even if he deserved the pain._

_"Mercedes, I'm__—_" She backed up, like he came at her with something that had the power to take her life away. "I'm sorry, I didn't..."

_"You can let yourself out."_

She sat still there until tears faintly pooled and blurred her vision. Before he could say anything she got up from the couch and walked away.

"Wait."

"No." She turned around and the expression on her face wasn't as angry as he expected when she said, "You were_—__are__—_right. I can..I can admit that." Mike moved from the couch and stealthily breached her personal space. She fought the urge to move again as she let him touch her face, his thumb rubbing along her jawbone with his eyes too soft and too warm for her to get scared of looking into them and letting herself be seen.

"If you ever give me the chance to be with you, maybe even to love you, I just want to make sure that I do it right. A chance at not causing you any pain or making you feel used up is all I'm asking for. Being with you, around you, inside you—that's going to always mean something to me, and I guarantee you that if you let it mean something to you too...you won't regret it. Not with me."

Mercedes let out a deep breath, feeling the sudden beatboxing match going on between her legs and in her chest. He was saying all the right things, he was looking at her the right way, and she wanted to jump his bones even more than before. But most of all, she wanted to believe it. And she hoped that she could believe in him too.

* * *

Maybe it was his guilt that laid her down. It could have been his feelings of contrition and all the secrets he never shared that motivated him to undress her and convince her of his loyalties, long before she could even know why she needed to be sure. Sam kissed her defined collar bone and made his lazy way down to her navel.

_"Tell me if I'm doing it wrong." Before he changed their lives he looked up at the pair of round deep brown eyes looking down at him._

_"I've never done this before," she said with a nervous laugh. "I don't know what's right or wrong."_

_"Me neither." Sam caressed her thighs with his hands, smiling before kissing the side of her knee lightly for assurance. "We're in this together, so...just tell me what feels good."_

"Yes," Victoria hissed as she grabbed onto his hair.

_"No."_

_His blonde head popped up and he licked his lips. "You didn't like that?"_

_"I don't know, I don't have anything to compare it to," she laughed. "Right now everything just feels funny. But maybe I'm supposed to like that feeling."_

_"I can stop if you want."_

"Don't stop!" Victoria writhed. "Faster."

_"Maybe you can just go a little slower this time. Take it easy on me." _

_She said the last part with a smile that told him she was just as interested in finding out what worked and what didn't as he was. It gave him the courage to try again, and the slow french kiss he gave to her center that made her shudder made him confident._

_"Is this okay?" he asked before doing it again and hearing her gasp._

_"That...that feels...mm, yeah."_

_Her legs cautioned that the price of making her feel good could wind up beheading him as she snapped her thighs shut around his ears. Even though it was muffled, he could hear the breathless whimpers and moans keeping his name and God's company as it cascaded from her mouth._

_"Shhhhit, Sam."_

"Oh my g—Sam."

_"Sam!"_

"Sam!"

_"Sam!"_

"Sam!"

_"Sam!"_

"Would you two just shut up?!"

Silence.

He must have sounded completely insane because the horrified look on Victoria's face was enough to make him pull away. It was the second time he had gotten out of character with her and they were just coming off of his first apology.

She folded her arms across her chest and shook her head in disbelief. "What the _fuck_ is going on with you?"

"Nothing—"

"STOP with the bullshit, Sam. What's got you like this, huh? When you're not being a goddamn zombie you're being a fucking maniac. So WHAT is it?—Is it work? Is it not work? Is it me? Is it someone else?"

He thought about _her_ and his wrists began to tingle. Victoria may not have meant it in that way, but his mind was too far gone to even look at the surface when the reason was at the root. _It's her, _his conscience told him.

"It's me," he said.


	5. The Confusion She Had Become Pt2

**A/N**: Thank you all so much for reviewing (I love your thoughts!) When I see how excited you are for things to progress and how invested you can be in the storyline/characters, it motivates me to write and get these chapters out to you. Once again, thank you!

* * *

Chapter 5

**The Confusion She Had Become** Pt 2

"Cedes?"

Puck kicked off his shoes by the door and stepped further into a house that seemed to stretch on forever in various directions.

"Chel?"

He should've known the layout like that back of his hand, but something about there being no lights on made it all unfamiliar to him. Automatically he thought the worst of the text that requested his presence. "Come over" was all it said, and that usually meant he had to show up in order to find out what was wrong.

There was a flickering glow straight ahead; the Fleetwood sliding doors that took up most of the wall were wide open and let all of the night in. Mercedes was sitting on the outdoor daybed with her knees up to her chest, the only source of light being the glass fire pit that was burning and the illuminated infinity pool. Even though she acknowledged him with her eyes she didn't say anything, so he figured she'd talk when she was ready.

Sauntering over to the edge of the patio he gave her the courtesy of quiet and took in the view. Hollywood Hills; from up here the city looked like the inside of a computer. A brain. There was nothing that wasn't shining bright, or blinking, or in motion. For miles and miles it lit up in the most entrancing way, and at that moment Puck was sure that if God had a Christmas tree, it only made sense that Los Angeles would go on the top. It generated more light than the moon and the stars. So much so that he had to look up just to make sure they still existed.

"There'll all down there," her voice said softly. Puck turned around. "I came out here to look at the stars but there aren't any. I said it must be because there'll all down there." Mercedes tossed her head in the direction of the city.

That was his cue. It was subtle but it was something so he joined her on the daybed, whether she liked it or not.

"I never noticed that before," she went on, "the whole not being able to see stars at night here. I guess that's one thing I took for granted back home. Looking up at them I couldn't help but feel small and insignificant because space is so...infinite...and there's only one me. I felt outnumbered. Powerless."

"It felt good, didn't it?" Puck chimed in, knowing the feeling she way trying to convey all too well. She gave him a delicate smile before nodding. "I used to feel that way with the moon. It was like no matter where I was just looking at it made me want to be somewhere else."

"_Anywhere_ else."

"Pretty much." He agreed.

Mercedes leaned back on her hands and gazed at luminous orb floating in the sky. "But you still have your moon, Punk," she said. "I'm right where I want to be, where I've always dreamed of being, and I can't even see my stars."

He thought long and hard before saying it, letting the fire burn a bit more and the water in the pool dance a little longer. "Then...maybe you're not where you should be."

"I almost slept with Mike tonight."

_Uh oh._ Finally, the confession he had been waiting for since her 3am text. For Mike's sake he hoped that whatever his friend was upset about was her own fault.

"But he saw through me. A lot like you but in a different way, if that makes any sense. Part of why I work so hard is because I know that if I slow down I'll start to think about everything that's wrong in my life and what's screwed up about me. I know I'm a mess, and if there's anyone I see myself letting near my mess..it's Mike. I told him I'd try, but at this point I don't think I have much in me left to give to him. I don't even own my own heart."

The next morning Mercedes woke up with her best friend's arms wrapped around her. It was something that she had become accustomed to. It made her feel safe. So safe, in fact, that she felt trapped inside. Unable to be harmed but unable to be free just the same.

Her stirring woke him up but by the time he could open his eyes she was already out of bed.

"You alright?" Puck yawned.

"I'm fine. Sorry I woke you. Whenever I give Crystal a few days off I get super disoriented."

Puck stretched, looking around and not remembering exactly when they had came in from outside. "What time is it?"

"It's 6:30. I should be in New York already."

"Wait, you should be in New York right _now_?" Puck was finally starting to understand what she meant by keeping herself too busy to think.

"I've got Good Morning America today and a whole bunch of things in the city I have to take care of..." They both looked at the clock. She had four hours to fly across the country.

* * *

"_Carpal tunnel syndrome, rheumatoid arthritis, diabetes, tendonitis_..."

Brightening the display of his laptop Sam quietly read off possible conditions in the corner of the café. He had hoped to find less inconveniencing reasons as to why his wrists had been acting up lately. As an artist, someone who made a living off of working with his hands, he was used to a little aching here and there. Some numbness, cramping, tingling. But those were the consequences of his physical actions and they were to be expected. Never in his life had the mere thought of something, and in his case, someone, caused him to get such a feeling. It was a complete rush, surging through his veins and paralyzing him from the sensation. It thrilled him, but in his searching the majority of what he read of others' descriptions of the feeling was "pain." _Sharp,_ they said._ Piercing. Pins and needles. _Was that really how it felt? Was it really something unbearable and he was the sicko that found it thrilling? Or were they all just a bunch of pussies.

Sam was starting to think that his condition was no condition at all until he came across a forum discussing tingling as a symptom of anxiety.

_**goldiefawn129**_

_It can definitely be a product of displacement, especially if intense emotions are being suppressed. So, yes, there's a possibility that it may present itself almost like an anxiety attack. Your body is picking up on something and is trying to get your attention._

He huffed and shook his head, slowly opening and closing his left hand to try and exercise the feeling away because, just like before, she had come to mind and he wasn't quick enough to wish her away. The other night he had told Victoria that he was the reason that things weren't the same and that was partially true. But it wasn't so much him as it was _them_. Mercedes was just as responsible—even if she didn't know it.

After tilting an empty cup up to his lips for the third time Sam decided he'd been stalling long enough.

* * *

When Kurt got the call that she wanted him, with all the fierce and fabulous designers she had access to, to design the dress she would wear for the closing number of her tour, he did more than pinch himself. Actually, he caused a four-car pile up when he slammed on breaks once he heard the news and ended up busting his lip on the steering wheel. It wasn't just him being presented with the opportunity of a lifetime, but after having an argument about where their friendship went wrong and who was responsible, he hadn't heard from her in a long while. If he could put a number to the amount of time between him it'd be about a year's worth of silence. That was long enough for him to think and believe that something went irrevocably sour between them, so the call came as a relief more than anything. Even now they still weren't as close as they were in the past but they were working on it. He had only been designing professionally for a few years, and solely for the stages of broadway, but the fact that Mercedes reached out to him for such a huge moment in her life said more than words ever could about how much she still believed in him.

He didn't mind being squeezed in. Part of him felt deserving of fitting in where he could with her only because the start of their troubles was her feeling the same way when it came to him. Now he was the one with the free time and she was the one who could barely afford to stop and catch her breath.

"Come on in," Mercedes insisted, opening the door wider for him. A few people from her entourage were moving around behind her and he tried not to show the mild disappointment of not having her all to himself like the old days.

Crossing the threshold of her NYC condo he was taken by the stunning view of the Flatiron District. _You bitch_, he whispered to himself in awe. Her space was so crisp and pristine that there was no way she could have spent more than an hour in it since purchasing the place.

"Is that it?" she asked, pointing at the dress bag with a smile.

"It sure is, my dear." Mercedes wiggled her fingers in a "come hither" fashion at the dress bag in his hands. She gasped almost immediately when he unveiled it. "I was going for Givenchy haute couture, fall winter 2010/2011. Beautiful. Luxurious. Elegant. Breathtaking meticulosity. It's absolutely perfect for the ballad," Kurt mused.

Mercedes ran her hands over the dazzling Swarovski crystals that decorated the cream colored gown. It looked like a rare piece of art. "Thank you for this," she said. "It's...wow."

"Thank you for the chance to do it."

"I'm serious, you better stay by your phone because people are going to be dying to know who the designer is."

He scooped the dress back up and held it out to her. "And I think I just might die if I don't see this on you. Please do me the honor?"

It may have been a work of art on its own, but on her it was a masterpiece. With every move she made it sparkled like rays of sunshine dancing on the open water. At that moment, out of all the wonderful places she'd been, out of all the amazing things she'd seen, she was the most beautiful. "Oh my god, Kurt." Mercedes whispered, completely awestruck.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and she smiled, turning to kiss the side of his face then wiping off the trace of deep berry lipstick with her thumb. "You're going to be a vision on that stage, diva."

"I don't think I'll ever wear something more gorgeous than this a day in my life."

"You just wait until you get married. I won't rest until I top this."

Her grip on his arms loosened at the sound of such a thing. It was more noticeable to her than him, but she felt herself pulling away and immediately plastered a smile on her face hoping he didn't catch it.

* * *

Sam watched himself stare at the full-length mirror, his stance still and his arms raised while being fitted him for a tuxedo. He didn't even like tuxedos. The bow ties, vests, cumberbuns—it all just seemed like so much. "I feel like I'm being crucified," he said a little too loudly.

The elderly tailor crouched down by his feet looked up from the measuring tape at him, "What was that?"

"I said I feel like I'm being crucified. Standing like this." Surprisingly, he got a laugh out of the old man.

"Can't say that I've heard that one before, son." Before Sam could respond he instinctively jumped from the hand going towards his inseam. "Sorry. Just doing my job," the tailor replied.

Sam laughed off the awkward feeling before asking, "Are you married, sir?"

"Going on forty two years." He was proud about it. Sam could tell that from the smile that found his lips as he spoke about his wife. Their kids, their grandkids.

"If you don't mind my asking, how did you know you wanted to marry your wife?"

"I always wanted to marry Carolyn. I wanted to marry her from the moment I saw her, but there's a difference between wanting to marry and actually being ready for marriage. I didn't know I was ready to actually take that step until she was ready herself. I waited a long time. I waited so long that she actually proposed to me."

"You ever got tired of waiting?"

"Some things are worth the wait, my boy. My Carolyn was."

_"You think you ever want to get married somebody?" _Hearing his own voice echo back at him Sam tried to literally shake the memory out of his head. "Huh?"

"I said tell me about your fianceé."

_Victoria. Right. _"Her names Victoria," he said. "We met back in college. She's got a heart of gold."

"Sounds like you really like this girl."

"I do."

"Do you love her?" The question shouldn't have come as such a surprise because he had been asking himself the same one since he proposed. He told Victoria he loved her almost every single day but put little thought into what loving her meant and how it made him feel.

Seeing the absent look on his face at the mention of love caused the tailor to retreat. "You don't have to answer that," he spoke. "In fact, it's best that you don't. It's none of my business—"

"I love her," Sam interjected, catching him off guard while he wrapped up his measuring. "I do."

"Then I wish you and Victoria one hundred years and more of that love." The man smiled at him and placed a firm hand on Sam's shoulder before leaving him and his reflection alone.

One hundred years. Approximately 36,524 days of life spent with the same person, to forsake all others to be with them for as long as time would allow. The thought alone seemed scary enough to him, and soon it would be his entire life.

The same uneasiness followed him to 622 Broadway as he sat just waiting for the guillotine to come down on his neck. Surely it was coming.

"They should be here any moment," the chief creator of GTA confirmed, leaning back in his chair.

Sam was surprised that none of the people in the room looked too worried. He could only assume it wasn't the first, second, or third time they'd been a position like this. It was his first time, but that wasn't the reason why at the moment he was practicing the deep breathing techniques he picked up online to get his anxiety in check.

_She tapped the corner pocket at the opposite end of the billiard table with her cue stick, saying without words exactly where her win would take place. It only took a few seconds to line up the shot before the 8 ball ricocheted off the sides and found its way into the mouth of the corner pocket as promised. __Sam threw his stick down on the table dramatically in defeat._

_"Don't get mad," she __laughed, already starting to fill the rack back up the same way her father left it. If it wasn't done exactly right he'd know she was fooling around in his den, and then she'd have to say who with._

_"That's the fifth time in a row you beat me. You're no fun."_

_"Why? Because I don't let you win? __My dad may be a dentist now but he was a pool shark first."_

_Sam put his back to the pool table and watched her line everything up with precision, making sure the numbers on the solid colored balls were facing straight up and the stripes on the others rested at a perfect 180 degree angle. __"It's not fair," he griped, still a sore loser._

_Even crouched over in the most uncomfortable-looking way she rolled her eyes up at him and smiled. __"At least you can beat me at darts."_

_"Yeah, well, that's because you're so short and I secretly make the target higher every time." __He immediately burst out in laughter at her expression. _

_"Sam, that's not funny! None of my darts were sticking."_

_"The tips were dull. That's why I always called the black ones—AH!" He yelped as s__he dashed to chase him around the table in the most cartoonish way. __They stopped on two different ends, trying to psych each other out with false starts._

_"I'm gonna hurt __you," she warned._

_"You're gonna mess up your dad's balls." He teased in a sing-song manner that made her lips tighten, fighting off laughing at his silliness. He smirked at the leverage he had until with__ one swipe of her hand she sent every ball flying across the table, showing him she didn't give a fuck and he better start running now._

Sam's arm was nudged by someone sitting next to him. "What's so funny?"

He tried to wipe the stupid smile off his face as quick as possible. "Nothing. I was just..._"_

"I'm so sorry I'm late!"

Whatever he was about to say, whatever lie so easily came to mind, got lost when he saw her. She moved around the room voicing polite apologies for her tardiness and the closer she got to being closer to him he felt his heartbeat speed up, his veins turn into live wires, and his mind becoming next to mush. Then she did it. Mercedes looked at him and he could've sworn they both stopped breathing at the same time. The only thing was that he was actually prepared to see her. Well, he tried to the best of his abilities to be prepared. So he knew what he was getting into yet her eyes told him that she had been ambushed by his presence. Within a span of seconds he watched her countenance battle with a series of emotions that raged behind her dilated pupils. He didn't know if anyone else in the room could tell how the atmosphere had changed, but all that mattered was that the two of them did.

"And you are?"

The blinders came off all too quickly and he was face to face with someone else. Mercy Jones: The Superstar. This creature in front of him had a surreal haze about her, much like all celebrities. It became clear that the television had warped his perception of who she was to the point where he found himself thinking, _Wow, she looks even more beautiful in person, _as if he had never known her at all. But she knew him and he was sure of it because, as it seemed, she found a reason to pretend to forget.

"Evans. Sam." He tested her with a look, turning his eyes into thin slits as if to say 'Really?'

Mercedes held out her hand for him. "Pleased to meet you," she acknowledged, with more professionalism than any hardworking white-collar man on Wall Street.

Not wanting to cause a scene (although she was a damn good actress) Sam shook her hand. He braved the sensational consequences of coming into contact with her skin and got satisfaction from how quick she pulled her hand away when his grip softened into a caress.

"...and so there's an opportunity to form a bit of a partnership there." Mercedes' attorney reasoned with members around the table. "I've advised against it, but Ms. Jones has no desire to receive any financial gain from this, although she appreciates the offer. What she is willing to do is tag an unreleased song of hers to the game's soundtrack as a form of consent. There will be no need for any contractual compensation."

With the legal mumbo jumbo being tossed around sounding like gibberish to him, Sam watched 'Ms. Jones' from across the table completely amazed by how she could sit there and act like he was made of nothing at all. Had she came in guns blazing he would have been able to see the bullets coming and dodge every shot fired. But right now her weapon of choice was a flawless facade that didn't even give him the privilege of knowing just how affected she was by him, and that bothered Sam the most.

"...She understands that this is your first ever female personality to be a main focus in the series, and so she's honored to have been a source of inspiration."

One of the creators who was one of the first to ok the drawing in the first place spoke up.

"Mickey is truly a complex character. When we presented the idea to Mr. Evans I told him, 'Hey, this woman has got to be beautiful, smart, strong, but with an underlying innocence that makes her so easy to be trusted. She's got to be a lot of great things, but, the character has to have a serious dark side that can compromise that."

Mercedes looked contritely at Sam only to see him already looking at her in the same way. _Is that what you really think of me? _she inquired with her eyes alone.

The creative director continued to ramble on, oblivious as to what his words were doing.

"Mickey is, after all, a thief...with the potential to be a killer...depending on who or what gets in her way. No one expects her to be the kind of person that she really is and that's why she's the perfect criminal and the most dangerous kind."

Mercedes shot up abruptly and walked out of the boardroom, unable to notice Sam's spine straighten with intent to move. But even in trying to get away, something invisible to the naked eye trailed behind her the entire time.

_The smooth and low voice she was used to hearing in her ear all that night was now muffled by a bite of blue fluff, and higher in pitch from the genuine shock of his not being able fathom that they were at a carnival and she didn't want any cotton candy. Still he was adorable, and something told her that the effortless charm of Sam Evans would always be just that: effortless._

_"It's not that I don't like it, it just gives me a weird feeling."_

_Leaning in he softened his voice and asked, "Like, indigestion?"_

_ "No," Mercedes chuckled, nudging him. "I just feel like no one can really, truly, enjoy cotton candy. As soon as you get a taste it melts so quickly you wonder if you even had it to begin with. Like you just imagined it all."_

_She took a pinch of the side he had offered her earlier and delicately placed a piece on her tongue. Sam watched the gesture with the lights of the funfair around them flashing across her face, illuminating the shiny, full lips she innocently closed around her finger._

_"But, that doesn't change the fact that it's delicious," she added with a small smile. "Even if it's just for a second."_

"Mercedes."

He had followed her right into the handicapped bathroom with no shame and she was about to scold him for it until she saw the genuine concern in his eyes. She looked him up and down and came to the realization that he was a man. His baby face had matured and chiseled to perfection, enticing her with faint facial hair fashioned into an I'm-a-badass-with-a-sensitive-side goatee that she imagined scratching lightly against her skin. Every inch of it. It was because of him that the walls were closing in on her. She coached herself saying, _be smart. _She was already feeling like she was on the brink of getting sucked into the black hole that was everything she felt for him. Still felt. And what blew her mind to no end was wanting so badly to curse him out but being unwilling to talk. She wanted to kick his ass but knew if he held her just right she wouldn't be able to follow through with it.

"I'd really, _really, _like it if we could talk," he offered. "Just us. No entourage, no distractions."

_You _are_ the distraction,_ all of her senses screamed."I just want to know why you did it. Why would you even bother? Did you think I'd never see it or did you want me to just to torture me?"

"Torture? I can't turn on the tv, I can't listen to the radio, I can't pass a magazine stand without you being there. That's every single day for me and you think you're the one being 'tortured' when everywhere I look I have to see you? Mercedes, I never stopped hoping that the life you chose gave you everything I couldn't but, I never thought your dream would be my nightmare."

"Why'd you do it?" Mercedes asked again, fixed on getting a straight answer out of him.

Sam matched the intensity in her eyes with his own. "I did it for the very same reason you wrote all those songs about me." How could she think he wouldn't be able to recognize things he said in the heat of his anger or in the middle of making love to her? He was stalked by those memories and now they played in the ears of anyone with an iPod. Mercedes may not have gotten his face plastered on billboards across America for all to see, but she certainly did put his beating heart on display for all to hear. "So what's your excuse?"

"I don't have one." Just like that his demeanor softened, and so did hers. "Every line, every phrase, every verse had you in it, Sam. I won't lie. So if we went by my music, then yeah, my entire career has been one long trail of bread crumbs just waiting for you to follow it and come back."

"But you left."

"And here you are."

Before he could even respond his conscience was split in two.

_She's not yours, Sam_, it said.  
(_But what if she wanted to be?_)

_You're risking a lot to want to find that out, you know.  
_(_What if it's worth the risk?_)

_Remember why you're not together in the first place.  
_(_You were just kids. You didn't know any better. Maybe things have changed._)

_And maybe they haven't.  
_(_Find out.)_

_Think of Victoria._

(_Think of Mercedes._)

"This is all a lot to take in," she sighed, breaking up the war between head vs. heart that kept him unresponsive. "I used to ask myself what I would do if I were to see you again after all this time. I thought I'd jump over tables or something but honestly...I want to just hate you and be done with it but I can't."

He didn't know exactly when her eyes started to water, but for the first time since she walked into the meeting Sam felt like he caught a glimpse of the girl he used to know. "I need you to kiss me," Sam expressed. He hoped that with every second that passed in silence she was considering the idea. "There are some things I've got to know and I'm only going to find the answers in you."

_What are you saying? _His conscience spoke up again. _Have you learned nothing?  
_

"Do you think about me?" To his surprise her voice turned small and fragile. Innocent. It wasn't about knowing if she had plagued him into submission with the reach of her celebrity. She wanted to know if he genuinely—of his own free will—thought about her.

"I think about you more than any sane man should," Sam admitted. "Cure me or kill me."

Mercedes took timid steps towards him, the five inches of Brian Atwood under her feet bringing her height that much closer to his level. He searched for her under the veil of makeup that made her look too perfect to be real. Even up close he couldn't find a single imperfection and it was an unearthly thing. But between her lashes he could see she was only human. Inclined to cry. Yet, instead of relinquishing her defenses to that feeling she gave into another.

"Put your hands behind your back," she demanded. Sam did what he was told without knowing why. "I'm going to kiss you, and if we can get through this kiss without touching each other then I'm going to let you go, and I'm going to need you to let me go too." It may have seemed irrational but she needed a push in the right direction, even if it pointed away from him. She thought about Mike. Too long had Sam Evans been the lingering "what if" in the back of her mind, so if there was nothing more to be said then they owed it to each other to say goodbye the right way.

All he could do was nod, unsure of what her reasoning was and what it meant to triumph or fail when it came to the test, but it was evident the decision was his. The ball was in his court and the only thing that bound his hands together would be willpower.

Sam watched her red lips move closer to his. Too slow to be fair. Already his fists were clenching behind his back and he was painfully aware of his limitations. "I'm going to lose." He whispered centimeters away from her mouth.

"You're not even trying," she responded in kind. "Don't throw it. Try."

"Try."

"Yes. Try."

"Try not to love you."

Mercedes did her best to not buckle at the knees. "...Is that what you want?"

"I told you I was going to lose, didn't I?"

Sam took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. Who let who in first was a mystery when both their tongues rushed to greet each other with equal urgency. There was nothing 'cute' or juvenile about the way they used passion as a mode of attack, their jaws on the brink of unhinging just trying to swallow the other whole in order to be completely full. The taste of her only made him more hungry instead of curbing his appetite for what he couldn't have. She had always been his favorite flavor, and even now with the hint of saltiness that came from her tears coming between them he'd gladly consume every scoop of her sweet heartache.

"Gotta Have It" size still wouldn't be enough to please him.

Without missing a beat Sam moved her backwards until she was against the wall. He hadn't even asked her if she was single. Not that he cared when she was kissing him like it was so easy to love her. But she hadn't bothered to ask him about a significant other either. They were two people with one-track minds and it left them both sadly mistaken.

Guilty of assumption.

And if they were wrong, then there was no doubt that they were going to be wrong together.


	6. The Need She Had Become

**A/N**: Hello everyone. Before we get back into the soup I just wanted to clarify that this story won't be covering where all of New Directions is/what's going on in their lives/are they still in touch. When you leave high school and go out into the "real world" it's not as easy to maintain those friendships as it is to simply say you will. That is a part of reality that I felt needed to be added into my fiction, so I choose to focus mainly on the lives of MJ & SE and how they live it beyond the good old days. Quite narrow, I know. But I can't even pretend to care about everyone in ND.

**msgonzo10 **- Yes. Have my baby. We'll worry about your husband never.

* * *

Chapter 6

**The Need She Had Become**

Leaving was easier said than done; anyone who had ever been in his position before could attest to that. Now his heart was starting to be aware of all its aching from having been torn in so many ways, and he knew he was partly responsible for it hurting so much. What had he given to Victoria if it wasn't his love? The real kind. Deep, strong, and true. The kind of love that made every other touch pale in comparison, the kind that could slumber for years only to erupt from a change in the wind and bury alive all his good intentions. Mercedes Jones left him covered in ashes that day, marked by things getting too hot too fast and cooling only from the reality that they weren't together. The light jiggle of the doorknob opened her eyes and she pushed him away, her hand clutching her stomach, making it known that she could feel butterflies flapping around violently inside. She pushed _him_ away, and if she hadn't done that when she did Sam wondered just how far he would have gone, how many more secrets would he harbor and be hesitant to tell the one that wore his potential promise on her finger.

_Sam watched her readjust in the mirror, s__liding her finger along the ridge of her bottom lip to collect any smeared red._. She was desperately trying to cover up the fact that just seconds ago they almost ate each other's face clean off the skull. Whispering a delicate 'fuck' to her reflection she dabbed at the tears that tried her waterproof mascara and he couldn't understand why she was so put off by letting her vulnerability show. There used to be a time when she could cry in front of him and not feel any less of who she was, but judging by the way she refused to face him until she was put together it was safe to say that Mercedes was tired of crying, and maybe even despised it.

_"That was a mistake."_

_If he was a dog, his ears would have perked up to the ceiling at the sound of such a thing. "I'm sorry?"_

_"Kissing you. I shouldn't have done that."_

_"Wait."_

_"You don't know me, Sam. Not anymore. And to be fair, I don't know you either."_

_"What's there to know?"_

_"A lot. Too much. You've thought about me and I've thought about you but we still haven't seen or spoken to each other in years."_

_"Whose fault was that?"_

_"Wow. That didn't last long." Mercedes snatched up her purse and reached for the door but Sam stepped in front of her._

_"No. You don't get to leave this time," he ordered._

_"Excuse me?"_

_"I'm not letting you go."_

_"Sam. Move." Her doe eyes had turned into daggers but he stood his ground._

_"No, not until you hear me out. You were the one that avoided my calls, remember? And you told our friends that your business was none of mine when all I wanted to know was if you were still alive." Mercedes put her fingers to her temples and shook her head which only motivated him even the more. "And you know maybe if we would've talked this out a long time ago it wouldn't be so inconvenient for you now. And you say I don't know you but do you ever give anyone the chance to?"_

_She closed her eyes in an attempt to steady her breathing. "Sam, open the door."_

_"When we were together everything was a question with you. You wanted to know why I loved you, why I did the things I did for you, why I had so much faith in you. All the answers were in my actions, Mercedes. They were always right in front of you but you just chose not to believe them__—_or me_—_for whatever reason."

_"Sam," she warned, trying to focus on his face._

_"Then we share this crazy spine-tingling kiss and you tell me it's a mistake!" He laughed to keep anger out but his hands spearing through his hair was a good indication that he was getting there. "You are honestly one of the most difficult puzzles on the face of this earth. Do you know that? You frustrate me so good, and it's intense, and it's amazing, and I hate it but I love it. Even now you have no idea that all you have to do is just say so and I'd—"_

_Mercedes' eyes rolled back and every other part of her followed. With wide eyes Sam lunged forward and grabbed her, pulling her in close to him. Her body collapsed in his arms like a rag doll and he immediately gathered up all his strength to keep them both from falling down._

_"Shit shit shit shit shit." He panicked, tightening his hold. Why didn't she say something? Did she say anything? It felt so good letting her know how he felt that he didn't even notice how it made her feel. _

_The more Sam looked down at her paling face the more he started to freak. _

_"Come on, baby." he pleaded, checking to see if she was still breathing. She was. Thank god. __He wanted to scoop her up and carry her out but there was no way of doing that without drawing attention to the fact that Mercy Jones passed out in the bathroom with a strange man, and it was sure to be news before she could even snap out of it. Certainly she wouldn't want to come to her senses on the floor of said bathroom either, but something had to give._

_Sam carefully moved behind her and eased them both onto the floor so that she was lying on top of him in the supine position. Raising his legs up he elevated hers above heart level, just like he learned in some class he thought was useless as a teenager. It proved to be a workout unlike any other and he could have blamed it on not having done leg lifts in ages, but with the sweet and tart scent of her hair right under his nose it was enough to weaken him more than anything. She still smelled the same. But more importantly, he still remembered what she smelt like._

_After the longest minute of his entire existence he heard life being poured back into her and he exhaled in relief. She started to move but he insisted that she stay still for a while longer to keep from getting dizzy._

_Mercedes turned her head to see his face over her shoulder. "Why am I on the floor?" she asked, still in a bit of a daze._

_"You're not on the floor; I am."_

_She cut her eyes at his reply. "Okay, then why are _you_ on the floor?"_

_"Because I know you wouldn't want to be."_

_He had a point there. "I passed out, didn't I?"_

_"Yep."_

_"You stood in front of the door, didn't you?"_

_"Yep." Sam didn't expect her to laugh but she did and he could feel her body shaking from trying to hold it all in. "How is that funny? You scared the shit out of me."_

_"You should have moved. Poor baby, just pouring your little heart out to my dizzy ass." She laughed even harder._

_"How was I supposed to know you're claustrophobic?"_

_"By trapping me in a small space and blocking off my only means of escape."_

_"Wow. Guess I had that covered."_

_"Yes. Achievement unlocked." _

_Sam rolled his eyes but couldn't fight the smile. She was still a little jerk. __"Whatever. I didn't mean it."_

_"I know that. I've been doing pretty good with avoiding small spaces so, it's not some widely known fact about me."_

_Sam gasped dramatically. "Whaaat? Not even on your wiki page?"_

_"Oh hush you," she giggled, reaching back to swat his face with her hand._

_When their laughter settled the silence became comfortable. Too comfortable, especially for two people in such an awkward position. After so many years of missed communication it shouldn't have been that peaceful, that effortless, making room for banter that was and still seemed to be so authentically them. In a way, they hadn't missed a beat, still connected to each other on levels too deep to reach by accident. They both recalled experiences that time couldn't erase and held onto feelings that their heart would never forget. That's what made it easy. That's what made it comfortable. __Mercedes could even sense the slow dance of her own lungs moving in time with his underneath her._

_Up..._

_and down._

_Up..._

_and down._

_It scared her stiff to the point where she'd risk turning purple and blue if it meant not being in sync with him. Not being perfect for each other._

_It was too comfortable. So just like clockwork, her restlessness had the final say._

He spent the rest of the day riding around on the subway hoping that the weight of what happened would feel free to get off at any stop. And when he finally made it home, everything was different. The apartment felt colder, more so than before, and he wasn't prepared for the avalanche of questions that waited inside Victoria as she sat on the living room couch.

_"Where have you been?" Her eyes were fixed on the television screen but there was nothing on._

Here's your chance_, his heart urged but lips denied. _Tell her.

_"I had some business to attend to," Sam answered with half truth, half evasion._

_"Business that took all night?"_

_"I rode around a bit. Went to the park, did some sketching. Got some fresh air."_

_"Why? Am I suffocating you?" Victoria looked at him, expectant of an answer._

He didn't want to hurt her feelings. That's all it was. Never did he think that by just being in the same room with Mercedes, reminded that she wasn't a figure of his imagination or some intangible idea, that it would turn his whole world right side up. It was like a splash of cold water to the face. Refreshing, but provided just enough sting to snap him out of whatever state he was in. He was still in love with Mercedes but telling the truth meant being the bad guy. It meant admitting he wasn't the knight in shining armor that Victoria made him out to be and he never wanted to cause her any pain by not wanting to cause her a greater pain. The greatest. But it wasn't just them involved in their relationship. His family, hers, they were just as invested and he didn't want to let anyone down, but he would never forgive himself if he made the biggest mistake of his life just to hand everyone else the perfect lie to believe in. Before, getting married to someone who was practically flawless sounded like a good idea. There was something about thinking his own happily ever after was far out of reach that made it so much easier to hold onto Victoria's, and he couldn't have made a smarter choice. She was everything a man could want and would no doubt make a wonderful bride. She was perfect.

But she wasn't perfect for him.

_"Vic, I have to be honest with you."_

_She motioned with her hands that the floor was all his. "Go right ahead."_

_"Today I ran into somebody from my past. She was someone I shared a lot of great times with and even some not so great times, and..."_

_"And what?"_

_"And we kissed."_

_Victoria shut her eyes to try and digest what he was saying and already Sam was having second thoughts about honesty being the best policy. "You what?"_

_"But, see? That's not the part you should be upset about. A kiss could mean nothing, but feelings..."_

_"Just what the fuck are you trying to say, Sam?"_

_"She does something to me," he admitted, having a revelation of his own the more he spoke. "Being there with her it was like discovering all my senses for the first time. In a matter of minutes she made me feel happy and sad and scared and angry and out of my mind. She just...she made me feel."_

_Vicotria's face grew tight even more than it already had since he started coming clean, only to make more of a mess. One day, one encounter, changed both of their lives in completely different ways and she balled up her fist around the short end of the stick she was handed._

_"Vic, I can't marry you."_

_"Stop."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"No!" She got up and motioned between them with her finger. "This thing? This you and me? You don't get to walk away from five years. I gave you everything—every fucking thing. So, no. No. I am not...letting...you go."_

_"Listen," Sam began, trying to sound as calm as possible. "I'm trying to do the right thing here. For the both of us. Please, just let me."_

_"Why? So you can run off and screw one of your ghosts of lovers past and I'm left picking up the pieces to something YOU broke?"_

_"You deserve to be happy. You deserve the perfect wedding and the white picket fence and a guy that can't even think to live without you. And as much as I tried to be that guy, he's not me."_

_Even with his sincerity, she laughed at him, covering her mouth to keep the volume from escaping. "Look at us. Having our first fight." She came closer and rubbed her hands up and down his chest warmly. "Alright. I forgive you. But just this once."_

_"Victoria." Sam took her hands in his own, "I can't do this. It's not fair for me to keep you from the somebody who can and will love you right. And you can blame me for as long as it takes for you to forgive me, but I won't put the both of us through this anymore."_

He got up the courage to set her free and that should have been it. His mind should have been eased and free from any guilt and fear of pending doom but that wasn't the case. It was like he was living in the twilight zone. For the past couple weeks the way Victoria had been acting was nothing out of the ordinary and that within itself was strange. She still cooked on her nights, she wasn't afraid of light conversation, and she still managed to lovingly call him "Sammy" as if he hadn't confessed to loving someone else. It couldn't have been healthy, could it? But her not wearing the ring anymore was a good sign, wasn't it? She got the picture, didn't she? These were some of the many questions Sam asked himself at night. He was starting to feel like a prisoner in his own home, held captive with kindness. And so it seemed that progress made started to look a lot like two steps back.

Sam tossed and turned on the couch. That damn couch. He always hated it and now that it was his new bed he was no fonder of it than before. He turned over onto his side, trying to find a position comfortable enough to put him to sleep, but as soon as his body started to sink into the cushions his cellphone buzzed against the coffee table with a text from an unknown number.

_Are you up? _it read_._

He texted back.

- who is this?

- _Forgot me that quick huh?  
_

Sam gazed up from his phone in thought. Just typing in her name caused him to look around the dark room cautiously.

_- Yes._

A smile crept across his lips at the confirmation. It was Mercedes. The day of their eventful encounter she hit him with the "I'll call you" line before they parted ways. She didn't even ask for his number and so he forgot that he could be looked up with a snap of her finger.

His thumb darted across the alphabet with a response.

- are you in the curry?

-_ ...chicken or beef?_

_- _city! are you in the CITY. You know what I meant ya jerk.

- _Ha, yes. I'm in nyc but only for tonight_

- what are you trying to do?

- _I beg your pardon?_

_- _why did you want to know if I was awake

- _Idk_

Sam squinted at the curt message.

- _You said you wanted us to talk  
_

- and I still do, but I'd like to see you

Either she was typing up a narrative or he had scared her away, because she didn't respond as quickly. Still, he waited. Just staring at his phone until the alert popped up.

- _Come over_

Sam stood in the doorway and stared into the pitch black bedroom, thinking of the spots on the floorboard that were sensitive to any weight being put on it. He pulled out his cellphone and used the light from the display to guide his steps. It illuminated Victoria's sleeping form in the bed and the residual feelings he had for her passed through him. They may not have been together anymore, and it was awkward still seeing her every day, but he wasn't a monster. He cared about her but she just happened to be a casualty of a war that started before her time and still raged on in the present.

Before he could think on it too much he grabbed a pair of jeans, a shirt, his keys and picked up his wallet from off the nightstand by Victoria's head with the utmost care. He headed out the door and with every step he made across the floor he heard it cry for him to stay, but he didn't see the eyes watching him in the dark and the lips that moved into a sinister grin.

* * *

She didn't really know why she texted him or why she expected him to be up so late. Sometimes Mercedes forgot that everyone else in the world didn't operate on a schedule like hers, which left little to no time for sleep. She was okay with a little sleep deprivation, because spending too much time in a bed as big and as empty as hers was just plain sad. It did nothing but remind her of how alone she was. Maybe that's why she texted Sam. She was alone. She had everything she ever wanted, but she was alone. And if she was honest with herself, it wasn't until seeing Sam again that she remembered what it was like to be seen. Gazed upon so profoundly to the point of feeling exposed beyond her skin and down to the marrow in her bones.

_"And you say I don't know you but do you ever give anyone the chance to?"_

That was one of the things Sam said that she retained before everything else became a blur. It replayed in her mind every day since, echoing over conversations she shared or the thoughts she had about how to avoid conversation. Puck had been the only one she truly let in. He was there from the start and she had grown to trust the boy with the mohawk whose ways weren't so much strange as they were misunderstood. She could confide in him because he wanted nothing from her. But Sam, he had wanted everything; he wanted her body and soul stripped naked, and she found plenty of places to run to but nowhere to hide from him leaving her open enough for him to step in and make a difference.

* * *

Sam tapped his knuckles against the door and waited for an answer. When it opened and he saw her standing there, skin undressed of any and all concealers, he was at a loss for words. Again. He didn't quite know who or what he was expecting to see, but it was great to see it. She was wearing a cut off UCLA sweatshirt that had seen better days and plain black yoga pants, her feet were bare against the marble floor, and atop the bridge of her nose sat a pair of studious reading glasses. She was beautiful. She was _real_.

He walked by the glass shelf that housed a few of her awards. Billboard. Grammys. AMAs. VMAs. The rest were probably on the other side of the country in a equally impressive display but just the sight of what was there was enough to intimidate.

"Wow. You made good, Cedey-Lou," he complimented in a sigh. One of her records that went Multi-Platinum hung on the wall and it brought a tight smile to his face, motivated by mixed emotions. "How does it feel to be the cream?"

Mercedes looked to him and her expression showed she was unsure of how to take his words and the memory that accompanied it. "The air is a lot thinner at the top," she said.

Her tone carried a shade of blue that he'd never seen on her before. It wasn't her color. Mercedes was a bubbly and bright spirit and deserved to enjoy her success. He could change that. He could be the one to make her happy and he knew it. Given the chance, he could dismantle the bomb she strapped to her own heart and save her from self-destructing.

"Hey, I think it'd be pretty impossible to pass out in a place like this," Sam teased, trying to lighten the mood. Ever since he walked in he was constantly turning his neck because he couldn't take in the whole room at once.

She rolled her eyes, "I like my space."

Sam moved over to the white baby grand and sat down at the bench. "Since when do you play?" he asked, running his fingers along the ivories.

"Since college. My manager thought it'd be a good idea if I learned to play an instrument, even if just to better tune my ear. I'm no Alicia Keys or anything but it's helped with my songwriting and...I like how it feels."

"Can you play me something?"

Mercedes dropped her head with a groan, shifting high ponytail on her head forward and making it bounce in the cutest way. "I knew you were going to ask that."

Sam gave her one of his classic crooked smiles. "Good. Then you should be prepared." He scooted over to make way for her and she plopped down. "I want to hear something you wrote."

"Seriously?"

He wiggled his eyebrows in response.

"Oh god." Mercedes took a deep breath and readied her hands over the keyboard. "This is something I wrote a long time ago. It was my sophomore year in college and I was just goofing around in Art of Listening class...which is ironic, but anyway... It's kinda silly but I doubt you care."

He winked at her cutting her eyes at him before he was taken by the sound of her voice...

_I wish I could wear basketball shorts at all my shows_  
_Cause I just wanna be comfortable_  
_Wish that I could eat cereal at least 3 times a day_  
_Wish that I could wear the same shirt all the time_  
_Just like they do in the cartoons_  
_'Cause I can never make up my mind anyway_

_I wish my suitcase would learn to pack itself on its own_  
_And I wish everybody in the world drove bumper cars_  
_I wish I could dive right in pool a full of marshmallows_  
_Cause sometimes life gets way too hard_

_La la la la la la, I don't really care_  
_La la la la la, it's whatever, yeah_  
_La la la al la la la, I don't really care_  
_La la la la la, cause it's whatever, yeah_

Sam looked from her petite fingers dancing on the keys to the peace she wore on her face. She was at home in the music, and unbeknownst to her, she invited him in...

_I wish my school had a mattress in every class_  
_Cause I don't wanna get out of bed_  
_And I wish I had Harry Potter's magic wand  
__I wish I could blow up my hand just like the dude in Fantastic Four  
__Yeah, so I can slap the stupid out of everyone  
_

Sam couldn't help but crack a smile and so did she, lightly chuckling through her lyrics...

_I wish, I wish, I wish  
__I could be abducted by aliens  
__'Cause I'm just sick and tired of the same routine  
__And I wish all these kids had to listen to a Bob Marley song everyday  
__So all the bullies in the word wouldn't be so mean_

_La la la la la la, I still don't really care_  
_La la la la la cause it's whatever yeah yeah_  
_La la la al la la la, I don't really care no no_  
_La la la la la cause it's whatever yeah_

She ended the song dramatically, reminiscent to a long-winded concert pianist...just to fuck with him. She didn't even notice that he was so focused on her that his eyes were teary from being unable to blink. Sam had been falling for her for years now and had yet to reach the bottom. If there even was a bottom. He doubted it. If that was the case he would have felt the impact of the crash a long time ago, but instead he just kept on going deeper and deeper down the well with no solid ground to catch him, no still waters to drown in. And every time she opened her mouth to sing he was reassured that he'd be falling forever.

"I told you it was..." Mercedes scrunched up her face, seeing his. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you're amazing."

That's all it took for her smile to erode and her away. She didn't want his compliments, his praise. She could never handle them in the past and now was no different.

"Mercedes, look at me." She gave him the corner of her eyes until he turned her face in his direction. "You remember that day I pulled you aside and showed you that video of you on YouTube?"

"You know I can't forget that."

"Then you should also remember that I told you were amazing...stunning. I said I believed in you and what you could become. I also said that I couldn't wait to buy your album the second you got one and I meant every word of it."

"I know," she said hoarsely, swallowing a cry.

"Do you?"

She would have been trapped hopelessly in the web of his emerald irises if he hadn't broke eye contact to pull out his phone. He silently went through it until he pulled something up and showed her the screen.

"See for yourself."

Mercedes scrolled down with her thumb to see that song after song belonged to her. With a few brisk swipes of her entire discography past before her eyes until it halted at the anticipated end. Sam slipped the phone out of her hand, limp from shock and disbelief.

"You _are_ amazing," he repeated. His emphasis was so full of pure affection that it lured a tear down her cheek. When she reached up to wipe it away he grabbed her hand. "Let me do it."

Sam gently removed her reading glasses and put them on top the piano. Cradling her face in his hands he caught the tear between his lips by placing a tender kiss on her jawbone. He lifted his head and gave the corner of her mouth the same treatment, taken by surprise when Mercedes captured his bottom lip between hers.

She sighed into another one of his kisses, "What are we doing, Sam?"

"What we feel," he said before reacquainting her tongue with his.

As much as Mercedes wanted to protest against whatever it was he was doing to her, she didn't hate it. In fact, she throbbed for more from him and was certain he'd give it to her if she asked, so she didn't, because what lied in store for them the morning after was sure to be something she wasn't ready to face. It meant being involved again, caught up again, and somehow, some way, disappointing him again. And she just couldn't do that.

"Mercedes." Sam whispered onto her sensitive neck as he sucked on it.

She couldn't speak, so she hummed, "Mmhm?"

"I'm going to make love to you now."

"Okay."

On second thought...maybe she could.

He laid her down on the undisturbed sheets of the king size bed and reclaimed his throne between her legs. He tried not to be so eager or anxious, going into his wallet for a condom and allowing her adoring hands to crown him with latex. It may not have been the "talk" they planned on having, but their bodies were far more eloquent when it came to communication. The way they touched, kissed, licked, moved against each other, it was exciting dialogue that could only be shared by two travelers with many stories to tell. But it'd been a long time since Mercedes had someone to talk to, and even longer since she had someone who was willing and able to listen, and do it so damn well. Sam made great conversation, stimulating her into shivering and sometimes stumping her with how deep he could go, to the point where she had nothing intelligible to say in response. Just "oh." That's when he called on the headboard to sound out every syllable, breaking it down for her until she gave epiphanic cries of yes. He was speaking her language then. Engaging every spot from A to G.

Sam was overwhelmed by coming back to loving on a physique that caressed him more than he caressed it. Her lips, her hips, her thighs, her behind. Her back, her neck, her breasts, her sex. Her hands, her feet, her scent, her skin. Her waist, her taste, her nose, her chin—he was homesick for it all, never ceasing to sing her body's praises.

Mercedes grunted at Sam crashing on top of her at the end of his climax. They both acknowledged the other's heavy breathing with a laugh in between their panting. Sam bit down on her shoulder for good measure, pulling at the skin there with his teeth. This mark would rival the one she put on the side of his neck earlier when she rode him into her tenth orgasm that night and his sixth. It was official: they were on some other shit. What started off as featherlight pecks, slow strokes, and sugary words soon elevated into spanking, hair yanking, scratching, biting, and raunchy declarations that got them all riled up again. It wasn't high school; it was even better. They were grown, and the nostalgia may have kept them horny but the years of experience between the two of them was what left them beyond satisfied.

"I want to move but I can't," Sam said into her damp neck.

Mercedes turned her head towards the clock on the nightstand. It didn't feel like three hours at all, although her sore legs said different. "You might as well stay the night."

Sam's lazy head rose up to get a look at her face, just to see if she was serious. "That's okay with you?"

"I'm sorry, did you want to be treated like a booty call?" she queried, batting her lashes at him.

He laughed and kissed her perfect and pouted lips, moaning at the taste and feel of them. "So that means we're together then."

"I didn't say all that."

"Oh? Then what is this?"

"Doing _what we feel_, according to you," Mercedes teased with a smirk.

"Once upon a time you told me that when you found your place in the world, we could be a we."

"I did. And I meant it but, I'm still not there yet, Sam."

"Because you're still not with me. You're never going to get where you need to be until you're with me, and I'm not going to be where I want to be until I'm with you; I know it because I've tried everything but."

Mercedes looked at him, his eyes inches away from her own and nothing short of captivating. "What do you want from me?"

"I wanna know your plans because I want to be a part of them. I wanna know what you're afraid of so that I can protect you from it or help you through it. Honestly, there's nothing that I want _from_ you...I just want you to include me in your world."

* * *

**A/N**: Karina Pasian - It's Whatever _(Mercedes' song)_


	7. The Gypsy She Had Become

**A/N**: Love you bye!

* * *

Chapter 7

**The Gypsy She Had Become**

A sliver of sunlight cut through the room and opened his sleepy eyes. The sound of being alone was deafening, so Sam wondered just how long he'd been cuddling up to the pillow wedged underneath his arm and not Mercedes. He knew she was planning on leaving the city today but he didn't expect her to go without saying _something_. Anything. But she didn't like goodbyes and neither did he. He didn't even like the goodbyes that really meant 'see ya later' but just fell victim to the habit of saying goodbye, so maybe it was all for the best. Last night he had every intention of telling her about his two-year engagement and, more importantly, its demise, but the truth got stranded somewhere in the calm and easy afterglow they basked in. He should've said something, but she was staring up, concentrating on an idea beyond the ceiling that kept her quiet. Right away he wondered if she had any regrets about what they did and the position it put them in, or if she was dissecting the "I miss you" that slipped from his love drunk lips, but she could have been thinking about anything at all. But he wouldn't know, and what he didn't want to do was burden those thoughts and possibly make matters worse.

Sam stretched limbs that felt like cinder blocks. Sooner or later he'd have to get up, but her scent still clung to the pillowcase and projected visions of their temperamental lovemaking on the walls of his mind. The dip in her back, the birthmark on her hip bone, every mellifluous moan and cry was his to remember and it made him smile to himself, hands itching to get a hold of graphite and put his creative impulses down.

He scurried around the place in the nude, looking for anything close to drawing paper. It wasn't surprising that there weren't many practical things in Mercedes' living space, so he settled for two squares of paper towels, a ballpoint pen, and an empty shoebox. Sitting up in the bed he sketched, not really knowing where his mind was taking him or if it'd be worth the trip. He was too engaged to even hear the front door open and close, or the heavy footsteps coming his way.

Puck stopped at the threshold of the bedroom and leaned against the door frame, looking on. "Lucy, I'm home."

Sam looked up and shock widened his eyes.

"Relax. You're not in trouble." Puck laughed, tossing him the articles of clothing that were still scattered on the floor.

_At least he's laughing_, Sam thought. The closer Puck got to Mercedes the more strain was placed on their "bromance", his allegiance to them both stretching like taffy clear across the country. They did hang out once in a while, having a few drinks and good laughs whenever Puck had business in the city, and there wasn't as much tension as one would think...not as long as they both kept Mercedes out the conversation.

"Do you know where Mercedes went?" Sam asked, moving around under the covers to put his pants on.

Puck nodded, and that was it. The end of the subject. Something was keeping him noiseless and it very well might have been walking in on a naked man in his best friend's bed.

"She didn't leave a note or anything, so I was just wondering..." Sam trailed off, making things more awkward by the second. "Hey, me and you, we're good, right?" He had been wanting to ask that question for a long time but never found the opportunity to.

"Sure." Puck answered quietly, but the shaking of his head and shrug of his shoulders spoke volumes.

"I just don't want you to think I'm going to hurt Mercedes."

"You hurt her pretty good the first time, bro."

"I didn't m—"

"And she hurt you too."

_Good. At least he knew._

"Look, I know you two still have feelings for each other, and that's cool. I'm all for it, but not if you guys can't just accept those feelings, get your shit together, and do something about it. Either you're going to be in each other's lives all the way or you're not."

Sam's mouth opened and closed at what he was hearing.

"And yeah, you beat out the other boneheads I've seen her with, but that's my bud, so I'm always gonna protect her the best I can. She's dealing with a lot. Inside and out."

"I know."

"No, you don't," Puck argued with a sad smile. "There's no way you could know; Mercedes is always in her head. Sometimes she worries about things she knows will turn out fine, but she still does it because she doesn't know how to just be okay. And she wants to know someone cares about those thoughts but don't think just because you ask that she'll tell you. She keeps a lot bottled up, and at this rate she'll work herself to a fate worse than death if somebody doesn't slow her down and show her there's more to life than her career. And I think that person's you but, dude, if you're not serious about being with her then you shouldn't have bothered with whatever you two already started last night."

All he could do was take in every word until they filled his lungs instead of air. If Puck knew it was true, that he really was for Mercedes, even now, then Mercedes had to know it too.

Sam watched his friend's back turn away and it provoked the very first thing that came to his mind to be pushed out his lips.

"Then take me with you!" He called down the hall, bringing Puck to a complete stop. "To L.A." The clarification still did little to help the puzzled expression on the man staring back at him.

"You want me...to take you...to Los Angeles." It was uttered languidly, getting a nervous 'I know it's crazy' smile from the bed-headed blonde.

"There's something I got to make right."

Everything was what he had to make right. The secrecy that dreadfully hung over his head threatened to end a good thing before it even began, and enduring one day more of dishonesty meant just another twenty-four hours kept away from the life he knew he wanted since he was seventeen years old.

Puck could practically envision all the ways Mercedes would plot out his murder if she found out he was meddling. But he could be forgiven and their friendship would be resurrected with something as simple as making a funny face. Sam, however, stood on completely different ground with her. It had all the potential in the world to be just as strong as his, but it would take someone believing in him just as much as he believed in _them_. Puck was taking a chance too, and all he could do was trust that both their good intentions did more to heal than harm. He took a deep breath and scratched at the imaginary itch on the back of his neck...

"Her label is throwing this party to celebrate her world tour at a club tonight. She'll be there, of course. Tired as fuck, probably, but she'll be there."

"Is this my invite?"

"If you shave, yeah. You look like you should be on a syrup bottle standing in front of a fuckin' snow-covered log cabin."

Sam rubbed the stubble on his face and frowned, "Hey. I freelance. I never had to worry about shaving on the regular."

"Yeah well this Brad Pitt Chanel No. 5 shit is killing me. Fuckin'...Jack Sparrow," Puck scoffed through his laughing. "If I'm putting my ass on the line so you can go all The Notebook on Mercedes, you gotta do this right."

* * *

She wasn't listening. She bobbed her head along to whatever tempo her ears perceived as rhythm, but she wasn't listening. Listening would require her undivided attention, and her thoughts were chopped into so many pieces that having one complete thought would be damn near impossible. If she was listening, she could've gotten lost in the music. She could close her eyes and dissect each sound, every instrument, and strip it from the rest…but she wasn't listening. There was no need to look up to confirm that Diggy's eyes were on her, reading her face for a sign that she was into the beat, but she was too busy thinking about _him_.

She was smarter than this, once. But the only difference between then and now, was Sam. How it was possible for someone to alter what she believed, just by existing, told her that being smarter than delusion didn't mean she was wiser than falling for its appeal and making the same mistake twice. And even if she was wiser, what did that truly say about her? So willing to be wrong and caught up in feelings she spent years chasing away. But what if she wasn't wrong at all? What if, for once in her life, she was right for feeling the way she did?

What if she had been the deluded one?

Last night Sam said he missed her and it had yet to leave her alone. She wanted to peg it as him commenting on the sex, but something told her he was talking deeper than her body would allow. It wasn't her intention to leave him without making things clear, but with every slow-blinking second she devoted to watching him sleep, before rays of sun could gave her away, it became more and more plain: there was no clear. She felt too much, so fast, and never expected to give into any of it like she was a teenager all over again. For that reason, she spent moonlit hours sleeping next to her own kryptonite but woke up feeling stronger than ever. It worried her, the power he had to simultaneously give to and take from what was inside her. None of it made any sense, and it wasn't long before fight-or-flight kicked in and she followed her fear right to the tarmac, jetting away before she got the need to turn around.

All it took was one night and her heart couldn't even be silent about it all it went through in that time. Mercedes looked down at the lyrics she wrote and sang them to herself over the track. That bastard. How dare him make her feel? The nerve of him, inspiring her, filling the space between the lines with things she couldn't say out loud...

_It's the wanting you, never getting you_  
_ Keeps me wanting you, missing you_  
_ Just to picture you is what gets me through_  
_ Fit for you, I was meant for you_  
_ What I was sent to do, meant to do_  
_ Wasn't meant for you_  
_ Hope I said that shit right_

Diggy looked up from the studio equipment and watched her over on the couch. She was singing to someone. He knew it the moment she closed her eyes.

_Cause if I never have you  
Then I could never lose you  
Do you know what might happen_  
_If I decide to choose you_

_Then the world may just stop spinning  
It may just well be the ending  
Talking all about existence  
Who knows  
_

_But I cannot see tomorrow  
If you're not in my tomorrow  
Uh oh  
_

He watched her pull her hair over one shoulder and reveal the hickey her concealer missed. His eyes zeroed in on the mark and treated him to a sip of jealously he hadn't tasted since being with her. This was supposed to be a professional endeavor, their working together again. She was about to tour off her third album but already had sights set on her fourth, and being the perfectionist that she is, she wanted him to be a part of its production. He said yes, knowing it was strictly about the music for her. Mercedes was far too honest to have any underlying motives, but he thought being in the studio together again was the perfect way to get next to her. He just didn't think he'd get close enough to see that someone else had gotten even closer.

_I'm tryna save the world  
How can I when  
You belong to me, I belong to them  
Who do I give me to, who do I let win  
You or the world  
You or the world_

"How does it sound?" Diggy cut her off, starting to feel uncomfortable in whatever atmosphere her voice was creating.

Mercedes opened her eyes. "Oh, I...I like it," she stammered.

"Like it?" He shook his head. "That's not good enough. Do you love it?"

It was a simple question, one that shouldn't have given her pause. But it did.

_His fingers slid up and down the inside of her arm with a delicate touch that made her laugh.  
_

_"Are you ticklish?" Sam asked, grinning._

_"If I say yes, are you going to tickle me?"  
_

_"I'm gonna tickle you regardless, babe. I just wanna know if you'll be into it or not."  
_

_Mercedes rolled over and positioned herself on top of him, her prom dress covering up his face.  
_

_"If that's what you wanted me to tickle all you had to do was say so," Sam said under the purple tulle.  
_

_"Boy!" She slapped his chest and pulled down the skirt of her dress until she could see his delighted face, asking, "What am I going to do with you?"  
_

_Sam took her hand and kissed her fingertips with as much care and attention as he'd give to her lips. "Love me."  
_

Mercedes glanced back down at all that she felt in a matter of weeks summed up into song. "I do," she professed huskily.

"Mercy."

"What?"

"Why didn't we work out?" Diggy asked, spinning the chair around to face her all the way.

"Because we shouldn't have been together in the first place."

"We had fun, didn't we? We made great memories, I made you happy..."

Mercedes shook her head, a sympathetic expression covering her face. "You kept me distracted, Dig. Not happy."

"We had it all."

"And all of it amounted to nothing. We were what the people wanted to see. Our relationship wasn't even our own; it had everything to do with the media and the public and nothing to do with me and you."

The memories Mercedes had of the time she spent being an "it" couple weren't arranged in sentimentally crafted scrapbooks, or a shoebox full of good times that used to be. How smitten she was with being in strong like with Diggy was printed on tabloids and listed in the archives of mud-slinging gossip sites. It wouldn't go away, and the world would never let her forget how miserable she was then.

"And, honestly, I was tired of hearing all those rumors about the parties and who you were with and what you were doing, because I didn't care. And the moment I admitted that to myself, I knew we were living a lie."

Diggy licked his lips in a way that used to drive her insane when they were together. Now all it did was remind her of the lips that never lost its touch and sent her eyes roaming around until her phone beeped with a text. She didn't delay in tending to it.

- _Hey! I just finished teaching a class at Millennium._ _Are you busy?_

Seeing Mike's name put a brief smile on her face. He was so patient with her that it was easy to forget he was still on the sidelines waiting for a chance at having her affection. Lately there were pictures and rumors circling around of them ever since their goofing off at the Lakers game, but there was nothing to exploit. They caught themselves "taking it slow", a snail's pace, but they generally just enjoyed the other's company and nothing was exclusive.

Mercedes looked up and shifted in her seat away from Diggy observing her phone activity indiscreetly.

- I have the last dance rehearsal before the tour there in about an hour. Stick around and I'll meet you?

- _You got it babe_

Babe. It wasn't the first time he called her that since their _almost _sex romp, but it was the first time she felt weird about it. Mike was a sweet guy, tooth-achingly so, and maybe he meant nothing by it, but she'd been mark by another in more ways than one and didn't know how to respond anymore.

* * *

There wasn't much he would need to take with him when all he planned on doing was keeping Mercedes in bed until their figures molded to the mattress. Of course, he wasn't supposed to feel guilty for following his heart. It was an admirable thing. The right thing. But when he opened the door to the apartment he was a criminal, and every step forward was one closer to death row.

"Victoria?" Sam walked through the house in search of her.

If Jesus loved him like the song says, his calls would go unanswered and he'd be spared from an explanation he wasn't ready to give. Or a lie he wasn't willing to create.

"Vic?"

Nothing.

There was no time to think about what was going into his duffel bag. He had no way of knowing how long he'd be gone, or if Mercedes would even keep him around after hearing what he had to tell her, but on the slight chance that she was tired of fighting him, he'd be ready. Even still, Puck offered to lend him his guest room for however long it took to recuperate once she gave him the boot. It wasn't so much discouraging as it was frank, but Sam was optimistic.

The note he wrote and stuck to the fridge short and to the point:

_Going out of town. Be back soon.  
_

He wasn't quite sure of why she needed to know. She probably didn't even want to know, but the blame he still held onto guided his hand into writing out a sympathetic "take care" in closing, just above his name. The sense of obligation, the eggshells cracking beneath his feet in the name of keeping the peace, all of it could have been avoided if he had just listened to his mother. More importantly, if he listened to everything she wasn't saying.

_"I support you." _

_With that, Mary Evans blew at the steam rising from her midnight cup of tea and took a cautious sip. His mother was a hopeless romantic, always had been, and for her to treat the news of his proposal in such a way picked at him. _

_"That's it? That's all you have to say?"  
_

_"What do you want me to say?" she asked concernedly.  
_

_"I don't know... Congratulations?"  
_

_"I won't celebrate something you're not happy about." _

_Sam watched her take another delicate sip as if she hadn't challenged a five-year relationship in one breath. "What makes you think I'm not happy?"  
_

_"Well, it seems to me that you're putting more energy into convincing me and your father that you're happy instead of just being happy, honey. Your love doesn't need my validation or anyone else's. Don't you trust your own heart?"  
_

_He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat, the wooden chair creaking a bit with the frustrated shift of his weight.  
_

_"How does she make you feel?" Mary asked calmly. It lifted Sam's eyes from the surface of the table and that was all she needed to know he was listening. _

_"When you talk about Victoria it's always _about_ her, but you never say how she makes you feel. And that's what matters, isn't it? How do you want to feel for the rest of your life? What's that special thing that's going to make it all worth not giving up on the days you want to but know you never will? What keeps you fighting for it? For her?__"_

* * *

Rehearsal went off without a hitch. Despite the morning after soreness that left her legs ultra sensitive, she knew how to power through a little pain to ensure that everything went smoothly. Even with Mike's admiring eyes on her, with every move she made she couldn't help but think about Sam—if only just to curse his name for how her body was taking the rough and rude awakening from five successful months of abstinence. Relieving herself of sexual frustration was one thing, but taking on more emotions just because of who she surrendered to, was another.

When she closed her eyes, even for a second, she could see him. _His_ was be the breath she felt on her neck, the hands that gripped her hips and wrapped around her, not that of one of her principal dancers who was about as straight as a curly fry.

By the end of rehearsal all she could so was pat herself down with a towel, trying her best not to swipe off the makeup that kept her from looking like a bruised fruit.

"You are ridiculous," Mike complimented with a smile. "Your show's gonna rock the world, lady." He reached out and hugged her.

"Ugh. I'm all gross and sweaty."

"You know I don't care," he groaned onto the top of her head.

Mercedes stood there with her arms wrapped around him until she felt his hands rubbing up and down her back. It was oddly intimate and she pulled away from it, clearing her throat. "Thanks for coming by. I know you don't want to step on anyone's toes, especially not Farai's, but my dancers really look up to you. Especially Demarcus."

"Hey, he's a great kid. And he couldn't have found a better start to his career than working with you."

"You're sweet."

"I'm just being honest. You've got this empathy thing going on that a lot of entertainers don't have, or forget altogether. That's what I love about you."

Mercedes lowered her head and chewed on her bottom lip shyly. She had never even thought about 'love' coming into play with them, and so soon. It may not have been contextually the same as Mike professing his undying love for her, but it got her thinking about it. What if he did? What if she allowed herself to get to the point where she could be loved by him and there was nothing she could do about it? Not even love him back.

"Mike, I want to be fair to you." Her brown eyes looked up at him and pleaded for him to listen. "You are an amazing guy, a great friend. You've been so patient with me and so understanding, and any girl with a working brain would be a fool not to fall for someone like you. But..."

But: always the beginning of an end. A wistful smile animated Mike's lips and he nodded knowingly. "You don't have to say it." He was doing his best not to put anymore sadness behind her eyes but it was no use.

"I'm sorry," Mercedes whispered, a pained look on her face. Here stood a man that did everything right and just happened to reach out to her at the wrong time. Had Mike been the one who touched her heart first there was no telling what they could have been together, but the reality of it all was starting to manifest itself. She was still in love with Sam and such a truth got under her skin, baffling her with its ability to be both comforting and frightening.

"Don't be. Can't say we didn't try, right?" Mike hugged her one more time and kissed her sweetly on the forehead, lingering there for a second.

"I feel foolish."

"But you're not and I'm glad you told me. You know I'll always be here for you, even if you're not mine."

"See? When you say things like that..." She whimpered, too choked up to finish her sentence.

"I just want you to find what makes you happy, Mercedes. Or who."

For the rest of the day Mercedes was on "autopilot", as her manager liked to call it. A well-oiled mainstream machine being steered around by habit. Although, she couldn't quite remember when she picked up the behavior, the moment when she could sign her name without thinking about it, when every adoring fan's 'I love you' sounded identical and got the same answer from her: "I love you most." She'd wave, smile, blow kisses, and address the paparazzi in her usual sweet way, even though she didn't feel like seeing the camera flashes or hearing the flurry of questions whirling around her ears. Always staying polite and politically correct, even when she didn't want to be.

When she finally got home she resisted the urge to pass out in the middle of the floor by shooting Puck a text.

- I...got...woes!

He responded almost immediately.

- _lol in different area codes?  
_

- Did you read that in Nate Dogg's voice?

_- yes. Proof that we've been friends for too damn long_

- Hehe! Love you :)

_- Love you too. So what I miss in the woe department?_

- Mike came by to watch my rehearsal today... and I sort of broke up with him

_- didn't know you were dating_

- That's the thing. We weren't. I couldn't even let the man date me properly! Now how sad is that?

_- what's that quote? "the heart wants what the heart wants"? annnnd it doesn't want what it doesn't want!  
_

- Well Mike was a great guy. So my heart is ill and it sucks

_- Your heart prbly thinks you suck too lol. youre stubborn as shit_

_- _I'm going thru alright? Leave me alone :(_  
_

_- Never. And it'll get better kitten. If you let it._

She side-eyed his text, temporarily forgetting that she never even mentioned her night with Sam. It wasn't that she couldn't talk to Puck; she could tell him anything, but when it came to Sam his would be just another voice in her head telling her to do what she already knew she should.

Mercedes tossed her phone on the bed and started the piping hot shower her muscles ached for. She rinsed off the grime of the entire day and prayed that the stress would wash away with it, that it'd circle down the drain and be forever lost. Tomorrow's troubles would be a new battle, another shower, another prayer, but all she was asking for was today. Majority of the stress was her own doing, because she fought with herself more than anyone else and the damage done was something only she could see. And the ugly truth was, and always will be, that she could scrub forever and never get rid of herself.

The call from Crystal asking if she was ready came right on time. It never failed. Whenever she chose to do without the swarm of busy bodies assigned to making her over and dressing her up, it always worried the assistant that had a need to know everything was going smoothly. Mercedes just didn't want to be around people until she had to be, until it was absolutely unavoidable, and tonight would definitely be one of those nights.

* * *

Sam ran his hand down the front of his suit jacket, thankful that he wasn't overdressed. It was like leaving one dimension and stepping into another. It wasn't the world Sam was used to, but he could see how it enticed the minds and eyes of others with its glamor, the extravagance, the way everyone displayed their importance in some form or another. It was in how they dressed, who they talked to, who they avoided altogether, but he was an outsider in disguise. Although, he must've looked the part of being a somebody because he was getting smiles and nods from personalities he only knew from watching E! News or Access Hollywood.

A short and smiley brunette smiled at him, holding out a serving tray of flute glasses.

"No thanks." He smiled back, noting that she checked him out before making her way to someone else.

It was when she parted the crowd he saw her. A bone straight ponytail resting along a spine made bare by the backless mini dress she was wearing, sparkling like the champagne in her glass. The same dreamlike fog from their first meeting was back and covered her from head to toe. Just that quickly Sam was reminded of who he had spent the night with and why that woman was completely different from the one he was seeing now. She was just as beautiful, just as enchanting, but less human and more of an illusion. She was a mirage that appeared when the atmosphere was just right, to convince all who thirsted for her company that she was happy to quench it with a smile, a laugh, a shake of the hand. How big of a star Mercedes was undoubtedly blinded many who got too close, making it impossible for them to see past the surface to her core.

"Go talk to her," Puck grunted, purposefully bumping his shoulder in passing.

And he would've if the DJ hadn't spoken up and introduced three girls to the stage that stole her attention, making her clap and blow kisses their way. Turns out they were her background vocalists and had been for the past four years. They had nothing but great things to say about their "Boss Lady" and everyone in the place seemed to agree. The three of them sang a song for her and he could hear traces of her voice inside their unity. From a distance he watched her beaming with esteem and singing along to every lyric. The words were hers anyway.

"Tonight wouldn't be right if we didn't hear the voice of the woman of the hour. Now, Mercy, we know this is your night, but..."

Mercedes looked hesitant but eventually took the mic they held out to her, shooing away the applause and cat calls that came along with it. It was apparent that her public loved her, but he loved her most.

"How's everybody doing tonight?" she asked, playfully imitating the sweet and low twang of one of her idols. Everyone answered back with whistles and various sounds of excitement. "Thank you all for coming out to celebrate with me. I truly appreciate it. Um...I didn't plan on singing anything, so..."

A voice from the cluster of people shouted out "Don't Ask My Neighbor." The request proved to be the general consensus with the whistles that pierced the air.

Sam watched her smile from where he stood as she secured the microphone on the stand and let the saccharine tone of her voice pour over everyone listening like strawberry syrup...

_You're wondering if_  
_I care about you_  
_Is there some cause_  
_That I should doubt you_

Just when he thought things couldn't get any sweeter, an angelic harmony tickled his eardrums lovingly...

_Oh, I can see, boy_  
_That you don't know me very well_  
_Uh uh, you're so unsure_

_And you run here and there_  
_To ask my feelings_  
_Friends only guess_  
_They can't say really_

_Don't ask my neighbor_  
_Don't ask my friends I hang around_  
_Uh uh, don't be afraid_  
_To come to me_  
_Don't ask my neighbor_

_Come to me_  
_Don't be afraid_  
_Of what you see_  
_You'll find I love you_  
_Come to me_  
_Don't be afraid_

His feet were stuck to the floor and refused to move. Not even when her eyes shifted in his direction and he swore he'd been seen among all the faces just as hypnotized as his. His wasn't the only soul sailing that was lured in by the siren, but his was the only one to crash. Living another day just to take to the perilous waters all over again.

Even though she didn't miss a beat her head titled to the side and her eyebrows crinkled, looking at him in a way that made him feel like a myth. Like something out of place. And the subtle shake of her head told him that she was seeing, but not believing.

* * *

Mercedes squeezed by the bodies that stood in her way and the hands that tried to pull her aside for schmoozing. She'd settle for a splash of water in the face but shoving her head in an entire bucket of it sounded more effective. She was seeing things. Had the dick been that good? Was he really immersed so deep in her psyche that she could conjure him up on a whim? She was a witch! She was insane, or she was a witch. And neither explanation sounded too good when she thought about it.

She sat down at an empty booth and went into her clutch for her cellphone. The whole day she hadn't heard from Sam and it didn't really bother her until now. She had her reasons for avoiding him, but what reasons could he possibly have to not speak to her?

_Maybe he knows I'm busy. Everybody knows I'm busy. But even if I was busy, which I am, he could've at least called me to find out if I was busy! You slept in MY bed for crying out loud!_

Her internal rant was cut off by the sound of the leather announcing someone sitting next to her. She didn't even have to look to confirm that her brain was up to its tricks again.

He wasn't there, but she could smell his cologne. He wasn't real, but she could feel his hand settle on her thigh and caress her skin under the table.

Mercedes shut her eyes tight and began to chant "I'm not crazy", even as she felt her face turn and full lips press against her own. Her heart kicked in her chest and her breath left her for dead when she opened her eyes to a pair the color of jade. _His_ eyes.

"Sam?" she whispered disbelievingly. "But...how did you—"

"Let's get out of here."

Mercedes yanked at his arm and sat him back down. "How. did. you. get. here?" she enunciated.

"I flew."

"You make it sound so magical."

"On an _airplane_, sugar."

"But how did you find me?"

"You ask too many questions."

"It was Puck."

"Why would you think that?"

"You're wearing his clothes."

"This shirt is mine."

"These are his." Mercedes plucked one of the Pac-Man cufflinks he had on. "And you shaved."

"You like it?"

"Maybe."

"You're not mad, are you?"

"I just don't know why you came all this way." Sam threw his head back and slammed it repeatedly against the booth like a mad man. "Boy, what is your problem?"

"How many more ways can I show you I'm in love with you? Just tell me so I can cover all the bases."

"I know you love me, Sam." She tried not to be startled by the way he looked at her. Like he was listening to sentences she hadn't even thought to speak yet. "I can feel it."

"And I can feel yours," he told her nude lips, trying not to kiss them again. "You don't even have to tell me. But I hope, one day, you do."

"...Sam?"

"Yes?"

"Take me home."

That was all she had to say for him to grab her by the hand and escort her out of the booth. The farther he led her, the more she realized how much she actually wanted to be taken away. Especially by him. She hadn't even thought to tug against his hand or plant her feet to the floor because with every willing step she took it was evident that she wanted this, wanted Sam. Passing by everyone who ever meant something to the name she made for herself still wasn't enough to keep her around. She was being pulled by a far greater magnetism.

The whole ride to her place he didn't let go of her hand, even though she expected him to at some point. She ignored the messages and missed calls that blew up her phone and focused on how his hand felt in hers. It felt like snowfall on Christmas morning. Like everything good and amazing in life. Like laughing until it hurts. It felt like red, and purple, and yellow, and gold. Like beauty. Like a road trip with no map but an entire summer to spend. Right then, at that moment, holding his hand felt like he was meant to be by her side forever.

Mercedes stepped out of her heels by the door and her height changed drastically right before Sam's eyes, getting a chuckle out of him that she glared at.

"Still an honorary member of the Lollipop Guild, I see." He teased, trying not to provoke her with his smile.

"For your misinformation, I'm in the Lullaby League." She poked at his chest with her finger for emphasis. "Not the Lollipop Guild."

"It's still Munchkin Land." Mercedes made a face but still received the kiss he leaned down to offer. If he were to look down past her fingers latching onto the front of his pants he'd see her standing on her tippy toes and probably get a laugh from that too.

Her heels found the floor again and she fixed her gloss with her finger, still in awe of how he kissed. "Well, you've got me to yourself...now what do want to do?"

It was hard not to respond to the brown bedroom eyes she looked at him with, but he couldn't forget what he came for. "I want to talk."

"About?"

Sam eyed the couch behind her. "Can we sit down?"

She obliged his request, which was supposed to make it easier for him to come out and say what he had to until she found her seat in his lap. "Talk to me," she said, playing with his belt.

"I want you to know that I'm telling you this because I have nothing to hide."

"Okay?"

"And because I want us."

"Being with me isn't that simple anymore, Sam. If I'm not on the road, I'm up in the air. I wouldn't be able to put the time into our relationship that it needs, and I can't have you resenting me or what I do just because it keeps me away from you all the time."

"I work for myself; I can go wherever you go."

"Your life won't be your own."

"As long as you're in it I don't care."

"You won't have any privacy."

"We'll complain about it together."

"Why do you have an answer for everything?"

"Because there's no reason why we shouldn't try and make this work."

She fiddled aimlessly with the buttons on his shirt and spoke to his chest, "I'm just trying to protect you."

"I don't need to be protected from you."

"I don't want to get hurt," she whispered. It was so low and so soft that it almost got drowned out by the sound of nothing at all.

Finally, she said what he knew was the real issue at the root of her hesitance, and Sam wanted to tell her right then that he'd never hurt her. It wouldn't have been the first time those words left his lips, but thinking about the last time, how he let his own hurt bruise her, he chose to keep the promise tucked away inside.

"Mercedes, I have to tell you something. And I need you to listen until I'm through. Will you do that?"

Her eyes grew wary of him but she nodded.

It all came rushing out of him like a dam that took on more than it could bear. Even in her silence he could see his confession sweeping over her and carry her under, though her expression never changed. She barely even blinked. It was like talking to a mannequin built like someone he knew, but nothing was inside to make her real.

"...But when we kissed I knew I couldn't go through with it, because it should've always been you. And it still is."

Sam took a breath he hoped wasn't his last and waited for a response. A slap, a yell, a tear. Anything. Instead, all he got was nothing. "Please don't shut down on me," he begged.

"I love you."

Her voice rustled like leaves carried by a gust of October wind. It chilled him, made him still. "And the way you make me feel. But I'm scared of getting hurt by you. Only you. Not because I think you will but because I know I keep you close enough to do it. Just the thought of all that you could do to me—all that I'd let you do—is what's scary."

"You can't keep thinking you're in this love alone. I'm in your line of fire too."

She never thought about that and it showed on her face. All this time she had it in her mind that she was the only one who could be wronged, or broken. That she was the only one at risk. But he had barriers, too. Yet, he put so much trust in her that she never encountered a single one on the way to his heart.

"In two days I'll be gone."

Sam inhaled lowly at how bleak it sounded.

"To Vienna...and Prague...Berlin—"

"For how long?" he pressed.

"A while."

"How long, Mercedes?" His tone was harsh but there was no offense to be taken.

"Seven months." She saw his eyes roll before he stifled what vexed him. "See? This is exactly why we won't work. You shouldn't have to wait for practically a year to see me again."

"So I won't wait. I'll go with you."

She shook her head cheerlessly. "I can't let you do that; your life is in New York."

"Then marry me," he blurted. "Let me make you my life."

Mercedes clenched the lacquered nail of her thumb between her teeth and was mute. It was unreasonable. But, then again, if love was ever meant to make sense then it'd be just as common as loneliness. If love was meant to be predictable then no two hearts would ever lose their way. Nevertheless, it could hide in plain sight and still be a mystery. A maze. A journey. And no matter how long the winding road goes on, discovering true love would always mean being met halfway to forever.


	8. The Stranger She Had Become

Chapter 8

**The Stranger She Had Become**

_It didn't register to him what he was hearing, not even for the second time that she repeated it per his request. "You will?"_

_Mercedes nodded, but such a quiet confirmation wasn't enough for him._

_"Say it," Sam begged, pulling at her waist._

_"I'll marry you." __His stomach danced to the sound of those three words, his heartbeat setting the tempo. __"You are for me, and I know that now. You were my first everything, Sam, so any guy that came along was bound to be compared to you. The things he said, how he looked at me, his touch, his kiss. And even after all that measuring up, the best feeling in the world became the worst...and that was knowing that no one else could make me feel like you do. __I never doubted that you would find someone else, and even though I tried not to think about you at all, I wondered if she was everything I wasn't. I wanted to know if she was smarter than me, nicer, prettier. If she make you smile more than I did, did she do for you what I couldn't."_

_Sam shook his head right away. "No. She was nothing like you and I thought that would be something that would make it easier, but all it did was remind me of everything you were to me—still are. And yeah, we were young when it all started and sometimes reckless, but what we had was real. It was just...before its time."_

_"...And now you think we're ready for marriage."_

_"Mercedes Jones, I should have married you five Grammys ago."_

_Deep down, Mercedes knew that. With every award she accepted she wanted more than anything to look out in the audience and see his face smiling back at her, his adoring eyes telling her 'I told you so'._

_"I just know that having the kind of life we want together isn't going to be easy for us."_

___"I don't want easy," Sam asserted. "I walked away from easy because I want you. Doesn't it blow your mind how we could spend so many years apart and still love the way we do?" Her eyes told him yes, even though she didn't say anything. "And during all that time you held on to me just as much as I held on to you. We held on because we didn't want to let go, Mercedes. We were never meant to."_

It was a rare occasion that she could wake up and not have a million thoughts bring her down before her feet hit the ground. Mercedes saw the new day for what is was and not what she had to do or the people she had to deal with. She thought about the ocean outside, the morning wood pressed against her from behind, and the night before that had her singing like a nightingale in the shower and cooking breakfast like Betty Crocker in her bra and panties.

For the past two days, just by being with Sam it dusted off a piece of her that, for the longest time, she thought was lost somewhere in the mess she made of herself. It was the special part that believed in true love and happily ever afters, in allowing herself to passionately need someone else and be needed in return. He breathed life into her hopes and resurrected them, letting her know that having it all was still possible if she was brave enough to go after it. With him around she hadn't reached for her cellphone, hadn't turned on the television, she couldn't even stand up long enough to put one foot forward before getting pulled back into bed in a fit of laughter.

Sam was everything she missed about home and anytime he laid it on thick she was butter on hot concrete, worries melting and legs separating. She prayed that it would last, how good he was making her feel, how he made time the last thing on her mind when he was touching places that had been abandoned for so long and discovering new territory to claim for his own. He planted his flag, his colors waved proudly in her, and the deeper he buried himself inside the more she held on. Anything he ever felt, she could sense. With every kiss she tasted it on her tongue and waited for it to dissolve, but there it stayed. There he was.

They lounged around on her patio out in the open California air like they had an eternity to spend, like it wasn't the last day that she would be his and his alone. The both of them tried not to think about it because it meant staying true to the one thing Mercedes asked of him: go back to New York. Engaged or not, she didn't feel right uprooting him from his life there just to follow her around the world. And no matter how many times and how many ways Sam tried to assure her that it'd be fine, that they'd be fine, there was no convincing her. But despite tomorrow, she was in his arms today.

"I'm going to take the way were eating as a compliment, caveman." Mercedes laughed, patting his stomach while they snuggled on the canopied daybed.

"Hey, you'd eat like that too if you were me tasting your cooking again." Some of his fondest memories of their young love were the picnics by the lake in the summer. She'd bring tupperware filled with the most mouthwatering home-cooked meals that gave him a serious but satisfying case of 'the itis'.

"Yeah well I'm rarely in the kitchen these days, so I guess it's good to know I can still burn."

"...This is one of those times when 'burn' is a good thing, right?"

Mercedes closed her eyes to keep from laughing at his confused expression. "Yes, it's a good thing."

"Can I burn?"

"No baby you _cook_. I burn." She snorted at his genuine confusion. "Don't worry about it."

Sam sat his chin on top of her head and sighed. Just having her there with her leg draped over his and hand resting on his chest was enough for him to picture waking up to her every morning in the same position.

"I don't want you to go," he said, hoping that Mercedes heard him and took it to heart. "I'm proud of you, and I know you have to go, but I don't want you to."

Even though she said there'd be a way for him to watch her, that they'd set up a private live feed for him to see her show opening night, it still wasn't enough.

Mercedes looked up at him and shared in his sad half smile. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll be thinking about you."

"Oh yeah?" Sam challenged playfully.

"Yeah. I'll even give you a sign."

"A sign?" A curious grin started to form on his lips. "What kind of sign?"

Mercedes pondered quietly a bit, giggling at what popped into her head before holding up the Vulcan salute and getting a deep laugh out of him. "Seriously? Trek?"

"That way you'll know it's for you."

"Good god I love you, woman," Sam chuckled, kissing her.

It started off as a quick peck of assurance until it turned into two...then a gentler three...and four shortly after with a slip of an amorous tongue that caused a stir in their loins and toyed with the current of heat that throbbed between them. Sam pushed a hand up under her mid-thigh length robe and squeezed.

As soon as she untied it for him they heard the front door slam closed and keys jingling.

"I said spare keys are for EMERGENCIES ONLY." Mercedes shouted towards the house, getting Puck to come outside onto the patio with a strip of bacon hanging from his mouth.

He stopped at the edge of the pool and snatched off his aviators at Sam. "I said go talk to her, not kidnap her from her own party."

"_Please_ don't tell me people think I'm missing," Mercedes groaned.

"No, but whenever your assistant is so panicked that she calls me about you, I'm the one who has to come and investigate. She automatically thinks you're chopped up in the freezer or something—can you two _not_ lay like that?"

Mercedes rolled her eyes and tied her robe up tight, sitting up. "I'll have you know that is no way to speak to me and my fiancé."

Puck squinted, looking from her to Sam and back again. "When did this happen?" he asked, trying to keep something out of his voice that he wasn't used to feeling.

"The night of my 'kidnapping', as you so eloquently put it," Mercedes bantered.

"That's...wow. That's great, Chel. I'm happy for the both of you." She raised an eyebrow at him in a language only they spoke. "Honest. I am."

Mercedes put on a smile and turned to the man beside her. "Can you give us a minute?"

Without question Sam got up and went in the house, leaving her and Puck staring at each other in silence. She patted the spot next to her and he plopped down, automatically lifting his arm for her to link it with hers.

"Do you know how I know this is going to work out for all of us?" she asked, nails raking at where Puck's mohawk used to be and calling on his eyes to entertain her question. "He didn't try and kiss me in front of you when he left like the others." Puck acknowledged that truth with a nod. "Sam knows where he stands, he respects you and what you mean to me, and that makes me love him even more."

"Well even though you don't need my approval, you've got it. He's a good man with a shit load of love for you."

"Aw, Punkmunk." She teased him in her classic baby voice, tickling the inside of his ear with her finger.

"...And I love you enough to know that my love isn't his," he gulped. Waiting for her to speak, Puck didn't expect to see the water gathering in her eyes or feel it burning in his own ducts that denied it release. "You know Sam is the one, and I've got to let him be the man in your life, Chel. I have to."

"Wait...what are you saying?" Mercedes asked with a slight rasp.

"I'm just saying that as long as you keep bouncing between me as a best friend and him as a lover, it's not gonna work; he's got to be both to you. And you can tell me you don't do that but you do it all the time—_w__e_ do it all the time. Whenever I was with a girl she always felt like she couldn't compete with you, and even though we're just friends I knew she could never. Sam may not feel that way about me now, or ever, but I'm not gonna stand in the way and wait for it to happen when you're married and something gets to you that you feel like you can't tell your own husband, and won't, because of me."

Mercedes huffed and wiped away a frustrated tear. "Why do I feel like you're breaking up with me?" She tried to laugh but it was hollow.

Puck immediately wrapped his arm around her neck anyway and pulled her into him, burying his mouth in her hair.

"I'm not going anywhere and you know that," he vowed, his voice trying not to crack on her. "But you can't keep hiding pieces of yourself in me and think that you'll still be able to give Sam everything. Something's gotta give. You deserve a guy that you can have it all with, Chel, and he's it. So go ahead and let him in."

* * *

He didn't ask any questions when she got dressed and suggested he do the same. Since Mercedes didn't mention where they were going, Sam felt he couldn't go wrong by using her as a guideline. So he went with a nice button down to compliment her semi-casual blazer and dark blue jeans to go with hers.

Having never been to the west coast before, he was nervous when she insisted that he drive. Especially behind the wheel of a car that still smelled just as new on the inside as it looked on the outside.

"This car costs more than all my childhood dreams," Sam said following the navigation system's directions with caution.

Mercedes looked out the window and smiled into her knuckles. "You're gonna have to go a lot faster than this around these parts Yank," she joked.

"Yank?"

Mercedes cleared her throat before singing, "_Yankee Doodle went to town driving in my Audi. Forgot he's in Los Angeles and not in New York City."_

"You're not helping!" Sam cackled along with her, trying to speed away from the car honking behind them.

"People like to think I don't drive because I'm some diva who's too prissy to shift gears, but I just don't feel like dealing with these maniacs on the regular."

"So you let me deal with them?" He heard Mercedes' lips smack from an air kiss she sent his way. "Nope. Not good enough."

"Get us to our destination safely and I just might do better," she tempted.

Sam's eyes went from the car in front of him to the passenger side where Mercedes was touching up her lip gloss.

"Challenge accepted," he quipped, dusting off a Sean Connery impression that put a smile on her face she had to turn from.

He knew very well where she stood when it came to putting her personal business out in the world, but it was the first time they were out in public together since her party. And in broad daylight at that. Now they were sitting across from each other in a restaurant, intimately fiddling with each other's fingers under the table with one hand and trying to focus on the lunch menu with the other.

"You never did give me that kiss," Sam announced after their food arrived and the toothy waiter who thought he was doing a good job of pretending not to be a fan of hers was far, far way.

"I plan on giving you something better."

"Mmmmm," Sam purred.

Mercedes pointed at him with her fork. "Get your mind out the gutter."

"Come and get it."

"No," she squeaked in protest, but still flirted with her smile.

"You're no fun."

"Please. I am Disneyland and you know this."

Sam dropped his utensil and pointed to himself intensely. "Universal Studios."

Mercedes put down her fork and echoed his motion. "Cedar Point."

"Dollywood."

"Disney _World_."

"Schlitterbahn."

"Schlitterbahn?" She couldn't even repeat it without laughing.

"Schlitterbahn Waterpark. New Braunfels, Texas. Over forty rides, seventeen slides, nine tube chutes, three lazy rivers and some mean uphill water coasters."

"Fine. You win."

"Yessssss," Sam hissed with a fist pump.

Mercedes shook her head at the nerd in him that never left and went back to her plate.

"That looks good," he commented.

"It is. Try it." She pushed her plate towards him after taking another bite.

Sam glanced down at the pasta and pursed his lips. "It looked better on your fork."

She narrowed her eyes at him, knowing all too well the cutesy games he liked to play.

"Don't give me that look. Get to twirling, baby!" Sam motioned for her fork to twist the noodles onto it and smirked once she did, surveying the area before bringing it to his lips and teasing him by pulling it away each time he leaned in.

"I'm gonna make you work for it," she enticed, watching his mouth make its attempts.

"You always do." Sam bit down on the fork just in time for the waiter to approach them again and refused to let go no matter how much she pulled at it.

"Is everything okay?"

Mercedes tugged one more time before leaving the fork in Sam's mouth. "We're fine. Thank you."

The clean cut server squatted by their table and spoke in a low whisper. "Is there any way I can get an autograph before you go? My partner and I are big fans of yours. We've got a jar on top of the fridge specifically for saving up for when you come to the Staples Center."

Normally, Mercedes would do it without much thought to who she was with, whether her company was business or personal, but something made her look Sam's way for an okay he wouldn't give or deny her.

She forged a pleasant tone that came from teaching herself how to say no even when she was torn. "Actually, I'm kind of busy right now."

The waiter's eyes ping-ponged between her and the silent man in front of her before getting the idea. "Yes! Of course. Sorry."

"You didn't have to do that," Sam told her through a smile.

"Oh but I did," she sighed. She sat her bag on her lap and rifled through it until she came up with a flat red box. "For you."

"Me?"

Mercedes studied his everything when he took off the top of the box and was wordless. "They were Puck's," she said while he pulled back the tissue paper and picked up a chain with two keys at the bottom.

Sam's eyes shot up at her. "Were?"

She nodded. "I got them from him this morning."

"Then what's he gonna use?"

"The doorbell, I guess. He says you need these more than he does, and you know what? He's right."

"Is this you asking me to move in with you?" Sam's expression was unreadable, given the fact that he'd yet to smile or frown.

"It's only logical, right?"

"I just thought that with you not wanting an engagement ring and all..."

"Well, if we want a shot at having some kind of privacy I don't think it'll be wise for me to wear a ring just yet. But as long as you know that I'm yours and trust that I meant what I said when I told you yes, then that's all that matters to me," she explained.

"That's a smart move. I know your fans can be a bit...protective of you."

Mercedes giggled at the thought of her overzealous fan base. Although she never acknowledged it, they liked to call themselves MERderers because of the way they attacked anyone who talked slick about her. Even now it never ceased to amuse her to see a Twitter page with _Here 4 Empress MerceDEITY Yvette Jones only #MercysMob #MERderer _in the bio. They were a devoted and overall lovely support system, but turned into a bunch of ruthless Nancy Drews whenever her being in a relationship was a possibility.

"Their bark is worse than their bite," she reasoned.

"I don't know about that. The threads I've seen are pretty intense." Mercedes rolled her eyes until her stare landed back on the keys in his palm.

"...Do you want to live with me, Sam?"

_Forever and ever. _"I don't know. How soon can I move?" He smiled and watched the unnecessary load lift off her shoulders.

"Well, I know seven months away might seem unfair, but the least I can do is come home to you. So, whenever you're ready, I'll call Crystal and she can arrange for some help moving your things, if you need it."

Sam took her hand over the table and leaned forward. "I'm ready when you are."

"And I'm ready when _you_ are," she repeated.

He grinned warmly at her. "I guess we're two of the readiest people in the world then."

Mercedes took the chain from his open hand and put it around his neck. "I guess we are."

Even with all the plans they made to communicate over the distance, she was prepared to miss him. It was just the affect he had on her, one she couldn't shake by smiling instead. Her heart was on the line like never before and they both agreed that it was all or nothing this time, because she neither could handle anymore tears, another breakup.

She woke him up in the middle of the night to say goodbye. Before the grogginess of disturbed sleep could dissipate, she kissed him lightly, opening his eyes to her packed and ready to go. "I love you," she whispered.

Sam wasted no time in sitting up and kissing her again for good measure, even though it couldn't compete with seven months of not having her. "I love you too."

The day she worked so long and hard for finally came around and she waited for the reality of it all to hit her, but went untouched. Her bandmates found it easy to pass the time by goofing around, casually enjoying the luxury of a private jet charter, but she couldn't bear to stay up and feel the hours go by. She went in the back where it was mostly quiet and laid down, but didn't have to will to shut her eyes. She stared into space just thinking about how far she'd come. And there was no doubt that she was achieving everything she said she would, and in record time, but none of it felt like work until she experienced what it felt like to live. Be carefree. To have someone say 'don't worry' and gladly take on every weight that she carried.

Thinking about Sam and the blissful two days they shared holding each other captive with velvet kisses and easy pillow talk kept her awake. She knew that being with him again would change things, and maybe even change her, but with the world as her oyster the last thing she wanted was for him to feel like he wasn't important because of the intense work ethic she developed over the years. If she could just get through these seven months then she'd tailor her life to suit her new outlook on it. That's what she told herself. There was a lot that Mercedes wanted to do before thirty hit, things that didn't involve performing for stale dignitaries or being asked the same questions by different faces. She wanted to drop off the radar for a bit, go see friends, family, and maybe even start one of her own.

Just maybe.

* * *

He stayed in L.A. for a couple more days, walking around a house void of her and thought of himself living there, having an experience in every room that made it just ask much his as it was hers. He imagined art supplies being found in the most random places, he envisioned occupying the "his" beside her sink and getting scolded for using her Johnson's body wash for the smell of it, and not because he had sensitive skin too.

Memories he and Mercedes never made crossed his mind and painted vivid pictures of them making good love as quiet as possible to keep little eyes shut down the hall, chasing a laughing, shrieking mess of curly hair around the house, hanging handmade ornaments on a gigantic Christmas tree while a fire burned and another soulful voice layered Whitney's riff for riff on the stereo. None of it ever happened, but it felt real. It felt right.

Barefoot and cozy Sam threw himself on the couch with his sketchbook and tossed a piece of gum in his mouth. After a while the rhythm of his chewing and the minty flavor that touched his palate slowed his drawing to a complete stop. He was chewing gum for the taste and not because there was a habit to break. Tapping his pen against the pad he tried to bring up the last time he remembered smoking...

_Sam stood there like a wall, feeling Victoria's lips pull away from his._

_"I'm gonna make you so happy," she told him with a smile, wiping the traces of her lipstick off his mouth. "But you've been smoking."_

_He forgot to open a window, gargle, shower. The normal procedure that took made it easier to smoke one behind her back. "Sorry," he murmured._

_"You got to stop sometime, Sam. It's not good for you."_

The day before he saw Mercedes again was the last time he picked up a cigarette.

_"I need you to kiss me," Sam expressed. He hoped that with every second that passed in silence she was considering the idea. "There are some things I've got to know and I'm only going to find the answers in you."_

_"Do you think about me?" To his surprise her voice turned small and fragile. Innocent. It wasn't about knowing if she had plagued him into submission with the reach of her celebrity. She wanted to know if he genuinely—of his own free will—thought about her._

_"I think about you more than any sane man should," Sam admitted. "Cure me or kill me."_

The minute before he kissed Mercedes was the last time he even craved nicotine.

Needing her again was an old addiction made new, causing him to trade in one habit for another, one that he couldn't quit because she coursed through his veins and every organ knew her well. Love was the drug, and since the first hit of it he never forgot the feeling, the high, the crash, the withdrawal.

Sitting in front of his laptop to see opening night, hearing the white noise that was the thousands of fans making their affections known to her, Sam was certain that Mercedes touched more lives than even she was aware of. Even from where he was he could feel the same energy and excitement that the crowd did while they sang her lyrics back to her, followed along with the dancing, and reminisced with her throwback medley. Just listening to her sing songs made popular by the greats so effortlessly showed just how much of a treasure she was to music and would forever be. Still, the hardest part about watching her in her element was knowing that's where she belonged: on stage. She had so much to give to the world and as bad as he wanted all of it for himself, that wasn't her purpose.

_ "...as long as you know that I'm yours..."_

Sam nipped the pang of insecurity that taunted him in the bud just in time to see Mercedes on the jumbo screen, her silhouette center stage while a blanket of mist swirled around her feet. A prelude of a string orchestra hushed the arena while the lights came up to reveal her standing in a gown that drew breath from his lungs like water from a well. She was purely angelic, her voice accompanying the piano that eased in...

_Who would've believed _  
_That you and me would fall_  
_And land together_  
_And who could've foreseen_  
_In you I'd find the place_  
_I've belonged forever_

_And if I move closer  
Then love will take over  
And lead the way_

It was the quietest the audience had been all night, hypnotized by everything that was going on. She took her time to love on the lyrics, to hug them and squeeze them, making every word she touched envious of the one that followed. Just longing for her attention again.

_I'd given up hope_  
_Losing the faith that love_  
_Could be mine to treasure  
__And now  
__Nothing's the same  
__I found myself reborn  
__On the day I met you_

_And if we move closer_  
_Then love will take over_  
_And lead the way_

_Suddenly  
You are lying_ _here with me  
And the truths_ _I used to hold have changed_  
_And if I move closer_  
_And let it take over_  
_Then love will lead the way_

_If we move closer  
__And let it take over  
__Then love will lead the way_

The crowed roared and Sam watched her reach up to wave before making her exit, inconspicuously signaling him with the Vulcan salute. He smiled and so did she, looking in his eyes a world away and pressing her fingertips to her lips, sending him a kiss.

Even with the nine hour time difference between the two of them, he made an effort to call after her show. He expected to have to leave a message, but when Mercedes picked up he was happy to be mistaken. On the brink of sleep she wearily recapped everything that went wrong with cues and the sound, even though he didn't notice a single flaw she pointed out. It may have been four in the afternoon in L.A., but it was pushing one in the morning in Germany and Sam could hear how tired she was with every yawn she tried to stifle while talking.

"Get some rest, babe." He pleaded with her.

Mercedes yawned full out just to apologize for it. "We used to stay up on the phone all the time, now you got all grown on me and want me to go?"

"I just don't want to keep you."

"What if I want to be kept?" she slurred.

As cute as it was, getting argumentative was always the first telltale sign of her being sleepy. The second being an excuse as to why she couldn't or shouldn't sleep. "You're sleepy, Cedey-Lou."

"Am not. I'm trying to keep my promise, so let me."

"You did keep it, now you have to get some sleep."

"I can't," she whined. "This bed is uncomfortable."

The excuse. Right on time. "I'm pretty sure that's not true," Sam laughed. "That bed is probably like laying on a cloud in whatever ten-star hotel you're staying at."

Mercedes yawned again, her eyes slowly closing as she snuggled into her pillow. "Did you get my kiss?"

Sam smiled at that. She was still loopy from sleep deprivation, but he didn't mind hearing how fluffy it made their talk. "I did. Thank you."

"I wish you were here."

"I do too."

She yawned one more time. "If I fly you out soon will you come see me?"

"In a heartbeat," he answered.

"We could get married, you know. Right under the Eiffel Tower like a bunch of annoying American tourists."

"Or in the middle of the Colosseum," Sam added, encouraging her madness. "We could get the pope to do the ceremony."

"I'd like that."

"Me too."

There was a brief silence on the line before Mercedes spoke up again. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you found me."

It was the last thing she said before letting slumber take over. Staying quiet, he could hear her exhaling with the faintest trace of a snore, the snore he always thought was cute but she denied the existence of.

"Goodnight, Mercedes."

* * *

After an extended stay on the west coast, being back in New York filled Sam to the brim with mixed emotions. He didn't feel as bogged down by everything that could go wrong like he had been when he left, but with his return all of the lights on Broadway still didn't make the city any brighter to him. It wasn't until passing the ad for Mercedes' fragrance, Plum Crazy, that he remembered why he was back: to leave again. There was a ticket to Spain with his name on it, and seeing her up there in a corset, looking like sex in every language, made him mindful of that.

On the way to the apartment just passing by the same old landmarks he used to as an honorary New Yorker put him in a mood. His favorite coffee shop, the bakery that made the best red velvet cake, the park where he proposed to Victoria.

Victoria.

He was so tired of feeling like the villain when it came to how they ended. There was nothing more he could say and all he could do was hope that she came to realize that, given the fact that he hadn't heard from her since he left New York. Maybe she needed space too. Maybe she found someone else to seize her time and mind.

Sam took a deep breath stepping up to the door of his apartment. He put the key in the lock but it didn't turn. He was still outside. Confounded, he tried the key again, and again, and again, with no luck.

_You've got to be kidding me. _

He knocked on the door calling Victoria's name until it turned into shouting, until his face flushed with anger and hands tightened into fists. He backed up and kicked at the door repeatedly, ignoring the neighbors that poked their heads out into the hallway in horror watching him bust inside like the police.

The door swung open to nothing.

Not the uncomfortable couch.

Not his television.

Not the refrigerator that held up his last words.

Nothing.

His footsteps echoed as he walked deeper inside the empty vessel of an apartment. Just bare walls and electrical sockets. The first coherent thought that surfaced was to check his art studio, considering that he left so much behind in such a hurry.

It wasn't empty.

Instead, it was a mess. The desk was overturned and the light was shattered on the floor. His boxed collectables were smashed, works of completed art were ripped into unrecognizable pieces and littered the floor like brand new carpet. Sam closed his eyes and fought to hold on to happy, to how amazing the past couple of weeks made him feel and why none of the chaos around him should matter, even if it hurt.

Turning to leave he noticed something pinned to the door. A magazine, conveniently opened to an article that read in big, bold letters:

**MERCY'S NEW MAN?**


	9. The Scandal She Had Become

**iMob4Mercy**

uhhh who is he and why have we never seen him before?

* * *

**ashhhby**

I don't know but he could get ittt!

* * *

**theotherMJ**

NOOOOOOOO I WANT MIGGY BACK!

* * *

**OhBeyhaveMercedes**

i can't with ^^ miggy is DEAD lol rigor mortis and everythang

* * *

**theotherMJ**

But theyre working on her next album together tho so...cant be too dead!

* * *

**jesusjonesXD**

I feel like I've seen him before

* * *

**iMob4Mercy**

of course you have basic white boys are everywhere

* * *

**OhBeyhaveMercedes**

BAAAAHAHAHAHAH! he does look kind of slow.

* * *

**MERder_she_wrote**

THEY FUCKIN

* * *

**thatmobsterlamb**

I don't like that he just popped up out of nowhere and nobody knows who he is, but she's all cum-fa-table with him lol. I've never seen him before but it doesn't look like they're in those early stages of dating. They've probably been together for a min. So my question is how long has this been going on behind our backs? Lol.

* * *

**MERder_she_wrote**

LONG ENOUGH TO BE FUCKIN

* * *

Chapter 9

**The Scandal She Had Become**

_Any day now. _That's what I told myself whenever I woke up to him, not beside me, but curled up on the couch in the living room or face down on his drawing desk. _Any night now,_ I'd say, brushing my teeth before bed when he was on the other side of the door just waiting for me to finish up. Sooner or later, he'd leave. It wasn't about hoping he wouldn't. Not anymore. It was knowing that he would and preparing myself for it to happen.

Any day. Any night.

I'm no fool. I knew that if he felt like he said he did—like he knew he did—then he wouldn't be able to stay away from her. It wasn't hard to see that he could never love me, not like how he loved the ghost of someone else, but I never expected it to be anything but a memory to him. A passing thought of the past in the back of his mind was something I could handle. It was something I could overlook because sooner or later he'd see that we were in the same lonely world together and that's why we needed each other. It's why we worked. It's why we sacrificed. It's why we made a silent promise to go through it all together.

_"So...who was she?"_

_His drink raised to his lips at the question she presented._

_Talking about each other's past breakups may not have been the best topic for their first date, but his __silence made the air thick with things unsaid and she figured seeing him put up his guard was better than seeing nothing at all._

_Sam took a long swig before asking, "Who was who?"_

_"She. Her. Whoever did this number on you." Victoria took a sip of her own beer, raising a brow at him before saying, "You must have really loved her—"_

_"I don't want to talk about it."_

_"Ever?"_

_"Ever."_

_His voice cracked and she pursed her lips at it, __amused by the newfound tension._

_"I was in love once," Victoria began, getting his hesitant attention. "Tyler Shaw. Cute as can be. We knew each other ever since we were little, we grew up together, we were even high school sweethearts. I loved him so much, and he loved me too."_

_"But?" Sam spoke up softly._

_"But that wasn't enough," she answered._

_"Why not?"_

_"Life took us in two different directions after senior year. I wanted out of Pennsylvania, I wanted to go to school some place new and live out my dreams. And even though he and I always said we'd find our way back to each other I have a feeling that we won't."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Because he met someone else the summer we broke up before college. She's pregnant right now, and I don't know if he meant for that to happen but it did. They're keeping it...he's keeping her."_

_Sam blew out a heavy breath, eyes lowered to the table.. "That's..."_

_"Horrible? Tragic? Depressing?" Victoria laughed, wanting to cry._

_"Familiar."_

She happened to him once, and as if that wasn't enough, she happened again. Whoever she was, whatever she did to Sam, he carried it around the apartment and rubbed it in my face by not looking me in the eyes anymore or saying things to make me smile. I started to ask myself what right, what power did this girl have to steal him away and leave me with something far worse than a shell of a man; she left me with nothing and he let her do it. So I waited. Knowing that he only came back to me because he was shut out of where he wanted to be, I waited. I acted as if he hadn't told me he moved on, reminding me of just how stuck I was in the process.

The night he crept into the bedroom like a stranger, like he never slept there, was the moment I knew that I lost him. He cared enough to tiptoe around my feelings but not enough to actually stay, and that's what pissed me off. And I guess the note I came home to the next day was supposed to take the edge off, but it only plunged the knife deeper in my gut. It would have been better if he said nothing at all; that's what I preferred. But Sam's problem always was that he cared too much. It's just who he is, and for six years that's what I clung to. We shared the same scars, him and I. And because of that, because we never wanted to feel that way ever again, he was supposed to be there, he was supposed to always care, and I was supposed to be on the receiving end of it all.

That's what was supposed to happen and that's what I believed.

But maybe if I would've gotten out of bed one second later I would've missed the subway the day I found out I was wrong. Maybe I would've been so damn frantic from running late that I wouldn't have had the time to stop for that cup of coffee. I wouldn't have put myself in front of the newsstands I usually avoid and I wouldn't have seen him with her on the front page, making it real to me.

_"Ma'am?"_

_She heard the clerk but couldn't pull her eyes away from the picture of a man that looked a lot like her ex fiancé having lunch with one of her favorite artists._

_"Ma'am."_

_There was another photo of them taken from outside a vacated clothing store that same day. __They were standing at the register and his hand was intimately tucked in the back pocket of her jeans while she paid._

_"Yo lady, are you going to buy the magazine or what?"_

_On the next page they were walking down the sidewalk hand-in-hand, laughing at god knows what, but from the angle the shot was taken it was clear that the "mystery man" the article was referring to was no mystery at all._

_"I'll take it."_

I don't know what came over me.

_The front door slammed shut behind her and rattled everything that wasn't nailed down to the floor. She let out a blood-curdling yell as she stormed through the apartment, every room, every object that stayed inside it holding on to a memory that used to belong to her and Sam. She couldn't tell what hurt the most. The who or the what. A face was finally put to the phantom she came to hate and never in her life did she expect it to be who it was._

_"You bitch! You fucking BITCH!"_

_Victoria screamed at someone who wasn't there to hear her. With hot and angry tears streaming down her cheeks she chucked CDs across the living room in search of the three that needed to be __destroyed. When she found them, like a wafer, she snapped each in half even though it did next to nothing to soothe the rage inside her._

_"All this time?!"_

I remember walking by his studio and feeling sick to my stomach. I looked in at everything that ever meant something to him just staring back at me, completely untouched, taunting me for being so messed up. But the single thing his room and I had in common was that we both were just the way he left us.

_Sam carefully placed the Limited Edition model of the Millennium Falcon on his desk and smiled at the beautiful display that made for a fanboy's wet dream._

_"Only 500 like it the whole wide world," he said proudly. "It's like having this inside joke with 499 other people but way more awesome."_

_Victoria wrapped her arms around his neck from behind and raised an eyebrow at what he was obsessing over._

_"Babe, aren't you a little old for toys?"_

_"For $800 you can't afford to play with this beauty," Sam corrected._

_"So it's an expensive toy then."_

_"Look, I've never had a lot of fancy crap in my life and I probably never will, but if I ever have kids these are the things that I can pass on to them. And maybe they'll pass it on to their kids, too. It's kind of like my legacy, you know?"_

The closer I looked the more I started to see that she was everywhere in our home. Her music was in our collection, her memory was in our bedroom, and unfinished sketches of her were hidden in the wastebasket of his studio. Not once did he ever raise a hand to draw me. He'd say something stupid like _Vic, your beauty is too divine to try and recreate _and I'd fall for it every time.

I sat at his desk and took the room in, remembering the many times he shooed me away to be alone. To "work." I used to think it was because I would be a distraction but now I know that I wasn't half the distraction she was.

_"...Vic."_

_She whispered on his jawline, "Yeah?"_

_Sam took her hand off the front of his sweats and held it in his, brushing over the diamond that decorated her ring finger with his thumb. "I'll be in soon, okay?"_

_"What's wrong?"_

_"Nothing."_

_"If it were nothing you would have told me. So what is it?"_

_"I've just got a lot on my mind."_

I looked at the stereo blinking from a track he paused, probably in the middle of one of his artsy moods where he needed inspiration. Sam rarely listened to music without some kind of purpose behind hearing what a song had to say. So I watched the numbers flash at me until I just decided to press play and let the song finish...

_Maybe it was wrong of me to think I could keep you_  
_And maybe it's the last few drinks_  
_Taking over my mouth and all I've been thinking_  
_I want you to know that I am fine here without you_  
_But I can't bring myself to lie to you_  
_And since we're being honest, I feel I should tell you_  
_I've been filling up the empty space between you and I_

_Between you and I, she could never compare to you_  
_Between you and I, I still keep your pictures underneath my bed_  
_Where she gives herself to me_  
_Where I give myself to you__..._

I wish I could say that I didn't know what I was doing or that I had a temporary lapse in judgement, but that wouldn't be true. I wanted his clothes, his television, his _stuff_, out of my sight. But I wanted his essence ruined, and I wanted it to be there for him to see the damage done. You can always hope that someone will be able to feel just a portion of your pain—a pain that they caused you—but if you had the opportunity to make sure of it, would you do it? Would you be brave enough to level the playing field?

Before all this I was nothing but perfect to Sam. For Sam. We never fought. I never nagged. I never complained. I'd suck his dick in front of a monastery if he wanted but I never, _ever_, hurt him like she did. But do you know what it's like to live with a broken man? To lay your head on his chest and feel his heart pop a stitch each time it beats for someone else? Whenever he walks into a room you can hear chains dragging against the floor but you don't even have the key to set him free and stop the godawful sound it makes with every step he takes towards you. To hug you, kiss you...propose to you. It sucks. It sucks because you still want him despite him, even though he wants more of what you don't have and never will. And when you think about it, I mean really think about it, all that shit is enough to make you mad.

And it's more than enough to make you crazy.

* * *

Mercedes warned him about this part. This was the price that came along with getting involved and not caring about the repercussions that followed. When he slipped his hand in hers in public that day she made it clear of the move he was making being more serious than he could ever know. It meant letting the public in on their secret, it meant being prepared for skeptics and opinions that were virtually of no consequence but just as common as air. That was her reality, and it was slowly becoming his too just by being so close to it.

Sam stared at the new pack of cigarettes sitting in the passenger seat of his car and squeezed the steering wheel tighter. He shouldn't have bought them, but the stress of losing everything he owned but what he took with him wasn't relieving itself. What he needed was to talk to Mercedes. He wanted to hear her voice and forget just how fucked up things were but there was no doubt that she'd pick up on what he was hiding and beg to be bothered by it, and he didn't want that for her.

There was nothing left for him at the space he used to call home, in every sense, so he headed across town. The last time he was in Mercedes' building the security gave him hell, but now even the doorman was looking at him differently, tipping his hat when he came inside and giving him a humble but knowing look, making it clear that an act of discretion was being exercised.

He didn't think he'd ever get used to how on top of things Mercedes was when it came to living a high profile life. With every new day there was another precaution to take and Sam was grateful just to mean enough to be considered. The world may have seen her as someone else, someone untouchable, someone who needed to be protected at all times, but he still thought of her as the girl who initiated thumb wrestling matches whenever things got boring or sappy in Schue's class. She was the same girl who swore up and down she could never see a comedy in theaters because her laugh was unbearable and the same girl who was frightfully easy to talk to, pulling things out of him he never knew existed just by drinking from the truth serum in her eyes. No matter how famous she'd become, no matter how many total strangers knew her by a name that used to be reserved for few, that's who she was and would always be to him.

"It's good to hear from you."

Sam reveled in the sound of his mother's voice on the phone, just as loving as it was before their dispute a while ago. Behind ceiling-to-floor windows he looked out across Manhattan as if he could see her and said, "It's good to hear you too, ma."

"To what do I owe this honor?"

"I wanted to say I was sorry."

"Sorry for what, honey?"

"For thinking I could lie to you."

Mary didn't say a word but that didn't discourage him.

"So I guess I just want to thank you for never lying to me."

"I've seen you at your happiest, Sam, even when this family was at its lowest. I saw things turn around for us, I saw you become a great man and get everything grand you ever worked for but lose the tiniest twinkle in your eye. And I missed that about you. It really did my heart good to be able to look at you and know that we may have been broke but there was nothing that could break your spirit because you were holding on to something far beyond than our circumstances. We were tired, and hungry, and living in a cramped motel room but you lit up like we had it all."

Sam smiled weakly even though it came from thinking about the point in his life when he had every reason not to.

"So how is Mercedes?"

He was immediately taken aback by hearing his mom bring up someone she hadn't talked about since his high school years.

"From what I can see you two seem to be getting along like old times."

The sound of her turning a page let him know that she was probably looking down at them in Star. "She's...she's great. She's in Europe right now but I'll see her tomorrow. I would've told you about us sooner but—"

"You were too busy being in love." She cut in with a didactic tone that rolled his eyes but brought a smile to his face until she spoke again.

"Victoria called me."

His smile quickly faded and the remnants of a fury he buried inside made his neck hot. "What did she say?"

"Well, what I could make out through all the sobbing, she wanted me to talk some sense into you."

"Into me? She's the one who..." Sam stopped himself before he could get worked up again. "I never set out for her to get hurt but she just went off the deep end. I did what I had to do. It was the right thing to do, and it may not have been right to her but it was right for me."

"Maybe you two should talk. Get all the bad blood out the way."

Sam scoffed. "Yeah, I'd much rather drink gasoline through a crazy straw."

"Sam."

"She's insane!"

"She's venting."

"Oh fuck that."

"Sam!" He cringed at himself and immediately regretted letting his temper get the best of him.

"I'm sorry. It's just that I literally saw my dreams crushed today and I don't think I could handle talking to her at this point. In all those years of being together it's like I never really knew her at all. I never thought that she could be capable of acting like...like a stranger."

He couldn't see it but Mary nodded, accepting that he'd been through hell and not holding his outburst against him.

"You'd be surprised how capable someone can be when given the opportunity to be seen at their worst, Sam. It's just like what Grandma Ellie used to tell me when I was a little girl. She'd say _Honey, it's not in how you celebrate a win but how you handle your losses that shows your true character. _It's in those moments that you see a person for who they really are. And it's a real shame that you're just now meeting the woman you spent the past six years with."

When their phone call ended Sam looked around at where he was and thought about every past second, minute, month and year that brought him to where he stood now. They may not have been spent how he wanted but none of that seemed to matter now. Everything happens for a reason, as they say. So if he was meant to suffer or settle just to get to a point where he could finally appreciate having who and what was made for him, then he'd go back in time just to bite the bullet all over again. He may not have had his apartment anymore, or his art studio, but with every move he made the jingling of the keys hanging from his neck amounted to much more.

Thankful that he took most of his art supplies with him, Sam found a place for them in her home office. Mercedes was definitely more organized than him but he figured the sooner he got started getting in the zone there'd be traces of him balled up all over the place.

He sat behind the desk and pursed his lips in approval at natural light that filled the room. It would more than "do" because there was a lot of work to be done. Ever since the job he did for Rockstar Games went over well he had been getting calls to do more illustrations for them and was being asked about by other companies. Marvel being one of them. Apparently the detail he put into the character of Mickey was something they could see employing, short-term or long. The choice was his. But most of the artwork Sam was going to send in to them for consideration was left in his portfolio back at the apartment in his absence. There was no way of getting any of that back and he didn't have the will to try and do them again.

No.

He'd do something new. He'd start over.

* * *

"You have to come out with us!"

Mercedes pulled the covers over her head at the sound of her background singers, Tahira, Libby, and Chantal at the foot of her bed, begging her to hit up some club in Madrid. She collectively called the girls "TLC" for short and they were like the sisters she never had: black, bold, and beautiful. But they also got on her case like family often does, but she learned to love them for it.

Chantal folded her arms across her chest and mumbled to the others, "She's been in this hotel room all damn day. Just as pitiful as she wants to be."

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here bitches!" Mercedes said from under the pile of blankets.

Tahira slapped at what she believed to be her butt. "Then get your ass up!"

"You're all fired. Now leave."

They all bursted out laughing at her and even she started to chuckle with them, pulling back the covers to

Chantal wiped a tear from her eye. "Girl, quit. We all know you're not firing anybody, so let's go."

"We didn't come here early for us to party," Mercedes said. "You're supposed to be _resting_."

Libby spoke up, "There are too many sexy ass Spanish men outside these walls. How can you rest at a time like this?"

_Because I have a man. _"Because I'm saving my voice, and so should you. What are you doing?" Mercedes shot Chantal a look while she took to going through her clothes.

"I'm picking out the dress you're going to wear to the club with us."

"For the last time, I'm not going out! I'm tired, I'm cramping, and I need to call my mom and wish her a happy birthday."

"Sleep later, take a Tylenol, and call her when we get back in!" Tahira begged.

"Look, if you guys let me off the hook now then I promise we'll have girls night when we get to the UK. Promise."

They probably would've opposed to her bargaining if she didn't look so shabby, although she did put on with the look of discomfort, but instead they decided to cut her some slack this time.

Mercedes rolled over and grabbed her phone. There was a text from Sam on the screen saying that he couldn't wait to see her tomorrow and it made her smile right away. She gave a reply of mutual feelings before calling her mom.

Just manually putting the home number in pushed a deep breath out of her. She hadn't seen those series of digits in a while and it was almost intimidating enough to keep her from pressing "call" but knew she'd only feel better if she followed through with it.

"Hey, puddin' pop. Is everything alright?"

Mercedes smiled. Leave it to Lena to act like they hadn't missed a beat in keeping touch, but having to ask if everything was okay reminded her that she usually only called when it wasn't. And those times were few.

"I just wanted to tell you happy birthday," she said. "Did you get the gift I sent you?"

Lena adjusted the Lady Datejust Rolex on her wrist. "I did and it's beautiful. Thank you."

"How was your party?"

"It was lovely. Daddy cooked on the grill and even Robbie and the kids turned up."

Robert Jr. was her older brother, four years older, and they used to be the best of friends up until she was entering high school and he was on his way out and off to Johns Hopkins. He was going to be a doctor, following in their father's footsteps, and after he left home the pressure of being sensible and perfect fell on her shoulder's only.

"How's Robbie doing anyway?" Mercedes asked.

"Fine. He's looking into starting his own practice so you know your father is over the moon about that."

"Of course he is."

Lena paused at the history behind her changed tone. It was the same one that surfaced whenever Robert Sr. missed her school talent shows or chorus concerts because of work, whenever she felt less than what he wanted in a daughter because of the dreams that chose her.

"Your dad loves you, Mercedes."

"I'm a big girl now. You don't have to say things like that to try and make me feel better about how I feel. And how he feels."

"He's proud of you, baby, he's just too proud to say it because that would mean admitting he was wrong about everything."

"Then I'd rather him not be proud at all. Just knowing that he is but won't say it is worse than actually being a disappointment to him. He's completely fine with me going around thinking I let him down and I decided that I don't deserve to feel that way. Not anymore. There's somebody in this world that loves me—all of me, not just what's reasonable or convenient because it lines up with what he believes. He loves all of me. And yeah, it's only one person out of the billions out there now and the millions more that are born every second of every day, but I swear to you he's enough. And after so long I finally found the courage to let that man love me and I'm proud of my damn self for that." Mercedes' voice grew shaky as she blinked back tears her mother couldn't see.

"Cedie, just come see him. Give him a chance to say it to you face-to-face and I know he will—"

"I am a grown ass woman, ma. And searching for the approval of a grown ass man is not on my agenda."

"You need to hear it, Mercedes."

"I don't want to—"

"You _need_ _to_. It cuts you deep and I _know_ it does, baby!" She heard the want to cry in her mother's voice and broke down. "But you two can't keep avoiding each other like you do or you'll regret it later. You need to hear that he loves you and that he's proud of you, and he needs to know that you believe him. And if this man of yours loves you like you say then we want to meet him—YES, _we_. Meet him halfway, Mercedes. Show your father that he still matters and see what happens. You might be surprised."

* * *

The next morning was looking better already. Sam woke up with a flutter in his chest and that old prickly rush in his veins that came from the first thought in his head being of Mercedes. It was a new old feeling, being able to think about what they had and know that one belonged to the other. It wasn't like it had been before when imagining her on Victoria's side of the bed frustrated the hell out of him and made him curse what was just as real between them then as it proved to be now. Sometimes he caught himself putting an arm around Victoria only to have the haze of sleep broken by an unconscious mind leading his hands to fumble around her body in search of more, letting him know that her outline was not what he knew best. Who he knew best.

Now he didn't have to hide it under the bed or sweep it under the rug. There was no longer shame in knowing where he belonged. Only comfort.

Sam hopped out of the shower and turned on the television to kill the silence in the room while he got dressed and ready.

_"So here's the breaking news..."_

Wendy Williams smirked at the audience before sipping from her Wonder Woman mug and Sam rolled his eyes. He couldn't stand that creature but sometimes she managed to make him laugh with how nosy she was on Hot Topics, which apparently he had just tuned in on.

_"With all the word that's been buzzing around about Mercy Jones and this new guy she's with you all know I was suspicious from the get go."_

Sam slowed down the loud and vigorous brushing of his teeth, having sworn that he heard Mercedes' name.

_"I love Mercy. I think she's amazing all by herself, but if I pictured her dating someone since Diggy I always expected it to be some form of royalty, you know? Because that's the next step up. She's a great girl, sweet girl, _rich_ girl, and she's at the top of her game right now. But with this random whoever he is? I just didn't see it for them. Did you?"_

He poked his head out the bathroom to watch the camera pan over people in the audience for a reaction, their faces distorted from every expression of disapproval imaginable.

_"It was just a bit sketchy to me. So this morning we got a call from a source who claims that this man we've been seeing her out with is, in fact...a cheater." Wendy nodded at the various sounds of surprise filling the studio. "His name is Sam Evans, he's a freelance artist right here in the city, and apparently he was engaged to be married to his girlfriend of six years around the time that he and Mercy were, I guess, messing around. And then—SHH! And then, he called off the engagement with this girl to go and be with Mercy. Now whether she knew about the girl or not, we don't know, but this is exactly why I say she doesn't need to be involved with any randoms. He's an artist, so he's probably not making that much money—and he's not hard on the eyes either so he probably thinks he can better pull one over her eyes and make a sugar mama out of her. Don't you think?"_

"The FUCK?" Sam said out loud. Liquified toothpaste spilled out of his open mouth seeing the audience nod and hearing them make sounds of agreement as if they knew anything at all.

A picture of him and Mercedes at Versace the day of their lunch date popped up on the screen and Wendy went right on dissecting it.

_"Look at him. Groping her booty in public. The sex is probably hot and nasty, he probably makes her hit all those studio notes live and now she's blinded by the...by 'the D', as the kids say. I just don't know about this one, Mercy. __I think you need to be with someone more your speed—if you're going to be with anyone at all. Because if he can drop a girl like a hot potato when the next best thing comes along then you're setting yourself up for a world of hurt—and that's if you didn't know about the other woman. Well, the main woman, because _you're_ the other woman in this case. And that's not a good look, honey. But we'll keep our ears and eyes open on this one!"_

By commercial break Sam didn't know what he was feeling. He also didn't know how much he was feeling and which one of those emotions he should deal with first, because having them all squeeze his lungs at the same time threatened to take him under. It wasn't true, and that's what hurt him the most. It's what angered him, what scared him. It was effortless for them, the judgement. They believed in everything but what they knew for sure and without remorse. They made faces but they didn't know their story. They shook their heads but they never felt close to death and life at the same time like whenever Love smiled at him_—because_ of him.

But this was the world Mercedes adopted. It was what he wanted to be a part of because he loved her too much to let her face it alone and what she hesitantly let him inside because she wanted that love. Needed it, even. Still, it didn't make hearing what he did any easier to swallow when, in a matter of minutes, millions of people made up their minds about him already.

_Mercedes warned him about this part._


End file.
